


Don't Walk On By

by brimstonegold, virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Bernard and Phillip from the movie, Caring Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Hot, Humor, Hunter Dean, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sex Worker Dean, Sexy Times, Wing Kink, based on pretty woman, hooker Dean, link to russian translation available, wealthy castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 61,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4124101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean works several jobs in order to pay for medical care for Sam who has been severely injured. The day he meets Castiel, Dean's luck changes, though it is debatable whether it is for the better or for the worse. Castiel is an angel who has been cut-off from heaven to live with Man for a hundred years. Trying to right a wrong, he accidentally hires Dean as his rent-a-boy and learns a thing or two about being human.</p><p>Prompt:  Pretty Woman (the movie)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://s1114.photobucket.com/user/virtualpersonal/media/story%20art/Banner1-byMishlee_zps73af6f7a.jpg.html)   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Our thanks to Mishlee for the story banner
> 
> Co-written with Brimstonegold
> 
> Our first scene was inspired by [this wonderful painting](http://artmetica.livejournal.com/23728.html) by artmetica
> 
> [This video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MkPczVKwkgQ&feature=youtu.be) was made for the fic by the generous Redlady21
> 
> Written for DCEverafter

Prologue  
(Five Years Ago)

As centuries passed, his leader, Anna became fascinated with humans and slowly changed. Then one day she did the unthinkable. She disobeyed. She extracted her Grace and she fell. They declared her outlaw, rebel, unholy and even called her evil. 

Castiel was convinced she was not corrupted but merely needed to find a new way to touch God, and that by walking among God's precious creations, she would eventually find herself restored. The rest of the angels in the battalion disagreed, turning their backs on her while Castiel still fought for her right to find her own path to God. 

Uriel finally had enough of Castiel's unending arguments and theories and Castiel was cast out of Heaven to live among the mud-monkeys for a hundred years. Once his days of penance were over, he would be allowed back to tell his brothers and sisters what he’d learned.

Castiel awoke to find himself inside a human host whose soul had already been reaped. 

***  
(CHAPTER 1)

Dean made a show of looking at the woman's driver's license then passed it back to her. "Sorry about that, but you don't look a day over twenty," he said, giving it back to her with a smile.

"You've made my day," she replied, blushing a little and looking at her companion across the table. "So, I'm legal."

He didn't miss the flirty lilt in her voice and matched it, "You're legal," he repeated, his tone dropping an octave. "Watermelon martini, and you, Miss? What can I get for you?" After the older lady asked for ice tea, Dean went into his song and dance about the day’s specials. 

"If you'd like a light meal, I'd suggest our soufflé which is a double-baked gruyere with artichoke and fennel. It works great as a starter if you'd prefer to share. Also, the chef has put together a seafood platter that is absolutely mouth watering," he said, trying not to gag at the thought of raw and cooked fish displayed with heads,and tails and antennas, or whatever. "Moving right along, we have a nice filet mignon that's soaked in garlic infused wine, with delicious pommes frites... that's French for french fries," he added with a wink. "I'll give you a few minutes to think about it and look at the menu, while I get your drinks."

As he walked away, their laughter told him he would earn a good tip. He'd never have considered working at a French restaurant in Malibu, but the money and the tips were good, so he'd knuckled down and forced himself not to butcher the foreign words he had to use on a daily basis. The place, La Brasserie, was very authentic in decor, or at least that was what the old timer, Jacques, who owned the place, repeatedly told him and everyone who would listen. The floors were checkered black and white and the dark paneled walls had large mirrors hanging on them. The mirrors were edged with brass as was the polished wooden bar. Red curtains gave a dramatic flair to both the windows and the open doors that lead to the patio seating area where there was a partial view of the ocean from the cliffs on which the restaurant was situated. 

Heading straight for the bar, he put his order in and was about to go check with the kitchen regarding a lunch order when Mike, another server, stepped up next to him and slapped his hand on the bar. 

"What’s up?" Dean looked at him.

"That same guy from the other night is back. The asshole who didn't leave a tip. I'm not serving him. He had me jumping hoops and then..."

Dean's gaze strayed beyond the doors to the patio where he saw the guy sitting at a table. He'd seen him the night before, too. Something about him had drawn Dean's interest. The guy was lean and tall, wore a business suit and looked like he was above everything and was sort of detached. Completely not the type of dude Dean would find hot, unless maybe his night job was changing him. Maybe hanging around one too many "down to earth" types with rough hands and bad manners was giving him the hots for clean cut businessmen? He licked his lips. "I'll... I'll wait on him."

"What?"

"I'll take your table. Don't ever say I never do anything for you." Slapping Mike on the back, Dean went to the kitchen, put in the appetizer order and checked on his other one, then came back and grabbed the drinks for the ladies. Once he served them and put their orders in as well, he ran his hand through his hair, straightened the long, black server apron he was wearing and headed outside.

It was a warm afternoon and the sun was quite strong, but the awning over the patio gave good shade. The slight breeze was tinged with the scent of the ocean. It also carried the faint smell of onions grilling and other mouth watering smells coming from the kitchen.

The man was looking down at the menu when Dean reached him and set a basket of bread and butter down on the table. "Good afternoon, welcome to La Brasserie. Can I get you something to drink?" he asked, sucking his breath in when unexpectedly brilliant blue eyes lifted to meet his.

"Yes," the man said quietly, "I'll take a glass of 1989 Red Loire." His gaze drifted over Dean slowly, seemingly taking in every inch of him. He looked at Dean's brass name tag. "Dean. Late Latin 'decanus,' chief of ten, or just 'chief.'" The man paused and tilted his head, meeting Dean's gaze. "Bring me an appetizer that will go well with the wine. I would like some sort of grilled fish for my dinner and an appropriate glass of white wine to accompany it. Dessert...something with fruit, I think."

"Just Chief will do," Dean said with a flirty grin, though he had to admit the man's knowledge of Latin had thrown him off. That and the way the man's gaze seemed to pierce clear through his soul. Course it was a good thing he couldn't see his soul since, by now, Dean figured it was a blackened mess. 

The man furrowed his brow a moment then gave a slight smile as he nodded. "Chief. If you wish." 

For once, Dean couldn't tell if the guy was flirting back. He seemed quite serious but how could he be? "The Red Loire's a good choice. Can I get you some water as well? Then I can make some recommendations along the lines of what you want." For some reason, Dean felt like the guy knew that he was bullshitting about the wine. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and waited.

"You can bring the water with the meal. Right now, just the wine. I don't need recommendations. I told you what I wish... Chief." He held the menu out for Dean to take. 

Taken aback by the abruptness, Dean wondered what he'd said wrong. Maybe Mike was right, the guy was an asshole. Yet when he took the menu and his fingers brushed the man's, a shock ran up his arm and had him looking dumbly into the man's eyes again. The disconcerting stare shook him free of his reverie. "Right, wine," he nodded and headed inside.

He put in the wine order and then ordered a starter, then took care of another table. By the time he got the appetizer and wine and walked out with them and a glass of water on his tray, he saw the man was looking down and reading something. When he lifted his eyes, he seemed annoyed, either at the interruption or the delay.

"Sorry, the kitchen's busy today." He set the plate of thinly sliced cold cuts, cheeses and duck pâté down in front of the man. Next to it, he put a basket of fine crackers. Setting down the glass of water, he showed the wine bottle to the man for his approval.

"The food is good here," the man said. "It's no surprise the kitchen is busy." He glanced at the appetizer and gave a small sound that could have been either approval or disapproval then looked at the bottle. "I find it strange that it is a practice to show me that which I have ordered as if I might change my mind or you might try to deceive me with a less expensive wine. Yes, that is fine and I do not need to smell the cork. Half a glass to start with, Chief. Thank you." He turned back to the parchments he was reading.

"Yes, Sir." He didn't really have an answer as to why serving wine came with all the useless sniffing, and swirling and looking at the clarity of the wine, with more than half the customers probably knowing about as much about wine as himself, so he wasn't arguing. He quickly uncorked the wine and was only too aware of how fast his pulse was beating. Damn, he hadn't felt like this over a person in... well since before Sam's accident. It felt good to know something could excite him, even if the dude was clearly not interested.

Licking his lips, he held the bottle in one hand and reached for the man's glass. The man picked it up at the same time and once again, when their fingers brushed, Dean's body reacted to the touch. Before he started pouring, the man's eyes locked with his own, paralyzing him like he was some junior high school kid with a first crush.

"Is there a problem, Chief?" The man tilted his head slightly, again studying him. "Your rapid pulse and the look in your eyes, I see you find me attractive."

"Wha--" Just like that, not only did Dean start pouring, but he didn't stop in time. Red wine spilled onto the spotless white table cloth. There was too much of it to be absorbed by the cloth and it dripped off the edge of the table, onto the man's lap.

"Shi... I am so sorry." Righting the bottle, Dean got a napkin and dropped it on the man's lap, using another one to dab at the table. "I don't know how that--"

"The manuscript!" the man exclaimed, scooping up the parchments he'd been reading. In the process of jumping to his feet, he inadvertently knocked Dean backwards. "These are priceless! They are unique! Original gospels!" he shouted, obviously infuriated. He stormed inside the restaurant, carrying the parchments with him. 

"Shit, shit, shit," Dean muttered, trying to clean up as best as he could as Jacques came closer and demanded to know what happened. Dean explained and then went back into the restaurant to get a new table set up for the customer.

Jacques was rubbing his neck when one of the customers started to shake his head and tsk. "It was an accident, monsieur, it will be rectified," Jacques said.

"Maybe, but you should do something about your waiter pushing himself on a customer. He's been making eyes at everyone and I think he touched the gentleman."

Frowning, Jacques looked toward the restaurant, seeking out Dean who was on his way back out and then was setting a new table with the bus boy. "He touched him?"

"Oh yes, the guy objected and then..." the customer gestured toward the wine stained table.

"Merci, for relating what happened." Immediately, Jacques strode toward Dean and asked him to come inside. On their way to his office, he instructed Mike to take over all of Dean's customers.

"It was an accident." Surprised that he was being pulled into the office for a common mishap like a spill, Dean started to explain. "I'll clear it up with the guy--"

"Non. You will get your things and leave, I will not have you conducting your..." he waved his hand around, "business, here."

"My what?"

"I kept one eye closed to your... activities, but this, propositioning here, in my restaurant, it’s... it's unacceptable. You're out."

"But..."

"That's it, out. I'll have your check in the morning."

"This is bull. Goddamnit, it was accident. This has nothing to do with... Did he say that I hit on him?" he demanded, hotly. Seeing the way Jacques was merely pointing to the door, Dean tore his apron off and threw it on the table. "Fine, take your job and shove it up your ass."

Striding out, he slammed the door behind him, spoke with a few of the waiters, and then headed out to the parking lot.

*

Castiel spent a good ten minutes in the bathroom with the manuscripts, carefully dabbing away the wine. Once he had dried them he made sure he was alone, and spoke soft words over them. The parchments glowed faintly as the wine stains faded and the damaged writing darkened and renewed itself. He sighed, relieved. Time was of the essence or else he could not have reversed the damage to them. He glanced at himself in the mirror. There were a few wine stains on his suit. He could clean it free of the stains, but that might raise questions. No, he would leave them be. Pleased he had saved the manuscripts, he stepped back into the restaurant and headed toward his table, only to find his table had been changed out for a fresh one.

Settling at the table, he put the manuscript back in his briefcase. He would read them later when there was no chance of another accident that might damage them.

Mike slowly walked to the table, bringing a new platter of cold cuts and cheeses. The wine was already on the table. "Here you are, Sir. Sorry about the accident, the owner will come to talk to you. He said there will be no charge for the dinner and to let you know you can bring your laundering invoice and we'll take care of it," he said stiffly. "Is there anything else you need?"

Castiel stared at the waiter he'd had on the previous visit. "I was able to clean the manuscript pages, it's of no concern." He looked down at the suit. "And this is of no consequence. Yes. I need my waiter. Where is he?"  
"He's gone. I'm your waiter now. What can I get you?" His gaze darted around the patio.

"Gone? What do you mean gone?" Castiel asked.

"He left. Got fired," Mike muttered, his gaze briefly meeting the man's. "Mr. Jacques is all about the customer's always right. When he heard what happened, that was it. What can I get you?"

Castiel stared at the waiter. "It was an accident," he said, his brow furrowing, sensing the waiter wanted nothing to do with him. "Let me speak with Mr. Jacques."

The waiter gave a nod and hurried back into the restaurant. The owner came out promptly, all but wringing his hands. Castiel pierced the man with his gaze. "The spilled wine was an accident. There was no need to fire the boy. No harm was done."

"It is fine. Everything is fine. The waiter is taken care of, your meal will be prepared shortly," the owner said, seeing the starter was as yet barely touched. "Please put your mind at ease and enjoy your meal, monsieur." 

Castiel gave a sigh. There was nothing he could do, obviously, at least with regards to getting the young man his job back unless he bought the restaurant and demanded Dean was rehired. He doubted this was the job of the young man’s dreams though. "What is the young man's last name and where does he live?" Perhaps he could do something to help the man find another job. Guilt, he realized. I feel guilty. But it was not my fault. Odd, he mused. 

"After what he did?" Jacques' eyebrows climbed up in surprise. "His name is Dean Winchester but, as for his address, that I cannot give you. He is... what shall I say, very resourceful and has other work. Don't trouble yourself more, oui?" Putting the matter to rest, Jacques went back inside the restaurant.

Fifteen minutes later, Mike brought the main course. Pushing the barely eaten starter to one side, he set the dish down in front of Castiel. "Filet of sole with a light cream sauce and potatoes and asparagus. Would you like lemon slices?"

"Yes. And some wine.” Ordering a fine white wine, he looked at the waiter's nametag. "Mike, I am concerned about Mr. Winchester. I do not understand why he was fired for merely spilling some wine, but the owner seems adamant that nothing I can say might cause him to reconsider. Where might I find Dean? The owner said he has other work. Do you know where it is? If this has caused him a financial hardship, I am certain I can assist him in locating another job. What is the typical salary one would expect as a waiter at a fine restaurant?"

Mike's face changed to a look of disbelief. "So you were hitting on him and he gets fired for trying to solicit you? I bet he never touched you. Forget it, I'm not telling you a thing. You can't even leave a damned tip and I'm supposed to believe you'd give him money out of the goodness of your heart?" His snort of disbelief was followed by a shrug of his shoulders. "Go ahead and tell tales about me too if you want."

"Hitting on?" Castiel realized after a moment what Mike meant. "I did not 'hit' on him, nor did he 'hit' on me. I do not know where that falsehood originated, but it was not from me. Tip?" Castiel sighed in frustration. He had only been on Earth for five years, with another ninety-five years to go before he served his penance and could return to Heaven. He’d been given the body of a rich businessman, one whose shell was empty and could be occupied without complications. Even after five years, there were so many things he did not understand. Of course those first few years he had spent learning how to operate a business. It was much like battlefield strategy, only using law, economics, money, and words rather than swords. "I will help him find a job. Please. Where can I find Mr. Winchester?" Castiel used his somewhat limited abilities to 'nudge' Mike.

"Forg..." Mike blinked. "Ah...He works the streets in West Hollywood late at night." Almost reluctantly, more words tumbled from his mouth, giving the businessman more details about the streets Dean hung out at. "I think he also works at Bert's Garage, but I don't know his days."

"Thank you," Castiel said releasing his influence and turning to his meal. "Please bring my wine and lemon slices."

* * *

Dean pulled into the outdoor parking lot of St. Raphael's Rehab and Care Center and parked under the shade of a tree. The facility was in the foothills, surrounded by trees and it pretty much felt like you were out in the country rather than fifteen minutes away from the city. There was a main building with medical offices and cutting edge therapy facilities, and three stories of assisted care apartments. They also had about twenty small bungalows in a cluster around the building, with perfectly smooth lighted paths leading to the main building, the gardens, and the small restaurant. Nurses and therapists in soothing blue or green uniforms assisted patients to and from their therapy, most of them wearing ready smiles. Dean was very aware that he paid for those smiles, paid through the nose for this place.

Opening the door, he got out and rested his arm on top of the Impala as he composed himself. By now, Sam would be done with his therapy and be in their bungalow either resting or watching TV. He'd know Dean was early and Dean would have to come clean. But he'd tell him they were fine, that his other jobs would tide them over until he got another one. It was the truth. He'd do anything to keep Sam here, keep him getting the experimental treatments that had already helped so much. Four months ago the hospitals had told him his brother would have to stay on life support, that he'd never talk or walk, that he should resign himself to it. They'd been wrong, but only because of what they'd managed to do for Sam at St. Raphael’s, and no set back was going to change that.

Closing the car door with a sigh, Dean headed to the walkway next to the main building and walked across a park-like area, making way for a nurse pushing a patient in a wheelchair. He gave them a nod and walked on. It was such a peaceful day. The sun was out, it was warm but not too hot, and the birds were singing. It was perfect, and at odds with his own day at work. He was going to have to find something, and soon. Maybe he'd even have to hustle or steal, something he'd been trying not to do, mostly because if something happened to him there would be no one out here to help Sam. 

Walking up the wooden ramp to the small porch, he unlocked the door and walked in. "It's me," he announced, walking into the living room area that was set up with a hospital bed, some furniture and a TV, and then his own bed on the other side of the room. He took his jacket off and put it over the back of a chair at the dining room table, then walked over to where Sam was sitting. "You doing alright today?" he asked, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder and smiling when Sam looked up, a movement he couldn't make a few months ago.

Sam looked at Dean's hand, then up at his face and managed a smile. With effort he turned his head so he was looking into his lap where the remote to the TV was gripped in his hand. He slowly lifted his arm. It wavered and swung from his lack of motor control. "Se-ven." Sam said slowly and concentrated on crushing his thumb down on the button. The TV channel changed to channel seven. "Up." Sam said, moving his thumb to the volume and increasing the sound. "Back..." He frowned and shook his head. "Down." He pressed the volume button again, decreasing it. He let his hand fall back into his lap and looked at Dean, grinning broadly enough that his dimples were just beginning to show. "Good?"

"Good? Not just good, that's freakin' great Sam," Dean said, suddenly having a good reason to grin just as broadly. "Seriously great! You been holding out on me? It's the new therapist, isn't it... hot," he winked, laughing at the look of censure from Sam. "We should celebrate." Crossing over to the kitchen, he pulled out a bottle of beer for himself and poured Sam a glass of lemonade. Sticking a straw in it, he headed back, hooking a chair leg with his foot and dragging it next to Sam's. Clinking his beer bottle to the glass, he said, "To progress," then brought the glass close to Sam, guiding the straw to his brother's lips. 

Sam drank a couple swallows through the straw. "To-Paw-gre," Sam did his best to repeat the toast. He made something of a face, his frustration plain. "Bra-greth," he tried again. He sighed and drank some more of the lemonade. Looking first at the clock, he then focused on his brother. "Work?" Sam asked, curiosity plain in his eyes.

Dean set both drinks on the coffee table and rubbed his neck. "About that... I got laid off. Probably for the best, I felt like an ass talking people into trying the foie de gras and the petite pois, just not my style. But don't worry, I got it handled." He met Sam's gaze. "Got other irons in the fire. We'll be able to get by on the money from the garage and the bank." He tried not to keep stuff from Sam because his brother had a knack for figuring it out or worrying on it, but he just couldn't bring himself to tell Sam that his job processing checks all night at the bank was code for hooking. There was no way Sam wouldn't take that on himself and demand he stop, and there was no way Dean could stop, if he wanted to keep Sam here for treatment. 

With great effort Sam lifted his arm and giving his shoulder a twist, managed to get his hand onto Dean's thigh. "'K," he said, giving Dean a small smile, faith burning brightly in his eyes. He twisted his head and looked at the Tom Clancy book sitting on the nightstand by his bed. "Book?" he asked Dean. They played a game where Dean would read him a handful of pages every night, depending on how tired Dean was, and Sam had to try to remember what page they had stopped on. "One...eight...se-ven?" 

"You wanna read?" Dean nodded, "Why don't we do it outside. It's a nice day." Getting up again, he looked inside the book. "Yup, you're still a nerd. We're on one eighty seven." Hiding a smile, Dean took the remote from Sam's lap, dropped the book in its place and slipped his beer bottle between Sam’s thighs. "Hold this?" Taking Sam's glass, he moved behind the wheelchair and pushed him out to the small porch. Giving Sam another sip of his drink, he put their drinks down on the small table and sat down next to him. "Alright, here we go. You up to trying to read the last word in every paragraph?" 

Sam nodded and watched Dean's finger move over the words as Dean slowly read out loud. If Sam knew the word he would sometimes say it with Dean, but just like he was being forced to re-learn how to use his limbs and to talk, he was having to re-learn to read as well.

It hadn't been more than a half hour when Sam's eyes began to drift closed though he struggled to stay awake to spend the time with Dean. He usually slept some in the afternoons, then a nurse would feed him dinner and bathe him, and Dean would come home for a few hours before he had to go back out for the evening. They would spend those few hours together, sometimes reading, sometimes watching TV, or Sam was getting good enough with his numbers that they could play cards or other simple games.

Once Sam fell asleep, Dean closed the book and sat back and had his beer. Sam's progress made him happy, damned happy. And now that they were seeing concrete results, he really could believe that Sam would one day be able to do all or most of what he was able to before. It would just take time. Time and money. Money he had to earn.  
As the afternoon wore on and it got cooler, Dean pushed Sam back inside and then helped him get onto the bed so he wouldn't get a bad crick in his neck from sleeping sitting up. By the time he was pulling the light blanket up over him, Sam was asleep again. "We'll make it Sammy, I know we will." He wasn't sure which of them he was trying to reassure.

* * * 

Since Castiel wasn't certain what the waiter might mean by 'late' at night, he began driving around the places suggested starting about ten. He had no idea what sort of work Dean might do, but he stopped any place he saw people working, such as parking valets and checked to see if Dean worked there. As the hour got later, he noticed more women standing near the street, dressed provocatively. He frowned as he noticed the occasional man who also seemed to be standing around, watching the cars pass by.

When he stopped at a stop sign, a blonde walked with swaying hips up to his silver Mercedes roadster. "Take me for a ride, handsome?" she crooned to him, bending over so he was given a nice clear view of her well-endowed chest.  
"No. I am looking for a Dean Winchester. Do you know him? I understand he frequents this area."

"Oh, you like boy toys. Teddy Bear, this one's for you," she called behind her. 

A tall muscular blond stepped away from the wall he was leaning against, his eyes giving the car a once over and then looking at the man behind the wheel. "Hello, good looking, what are you in the mood for tonight?"

"Dean Winchester," Castiel said. "I am looking for Dean Winchester. Do you know where I can find him?"

The man studied his nails. "For a price, I might be able to help you out." His gaze met Castiel's.

Castiel pulled out his wallet and extracted a fifty. He held it out but when the man went to reach for it, he pulled it back. "Where?"

"Try Santa Monica Boulevard. Know a guy named Dean, he’s usually around there this time of night. If you don’t find him, guys that look like him are a dime a dozen there."

Castiel handed the man the fifty and headed toward the road the man suggested, keeping alert for any sign of the waiter he hadn't meant to get fired.

Santa Monica Boulevard was packed with cruisers driving bumper to bumper. Some shouted to people sitting at the outdoor cafes or walking on the sidewalk. There were noticeably more men than women and many of the couples sitting at the tables were males. Music blasted from some of the cars driving on the street, or could be heard streaming out of a bar or other establishment when the doors opened to let people in or out. There was a definite party vibe, enhanced by the prevalence of record stores, and dance and comedy clubs.

Here and there, at street corners or in the smaller streets shooting off from the main boulevard, men, mostly young men, congregated. When a vehicle slowed down or a window was rolled down near them, several would approach. Sometimes insults were hurled and they went back to their various groups. Other times they took off with strangers or the driver would pull over and get out of the car. 

Castiel kept a sharp eye out, wishing he had taken better note of the man's essence so he could track him. He finally pulled over and waved a young man over. "Dean Winchester. Have you seen him?"

"Oh baby, you don't need Dean when you've got me." Taking his shirt off and stepping away from the convertible, the guy offered Castiel a good view of his chest. "You can do me against this big, beautiful car, no extra charge," he said, running his hand over the silver body of the car. "Come on, you know I'm just what you need to loosen up." Reaching into the car, he stroked Castiel's cheek and neck, his finger working under Castiel's tie. "I'll make you feel good. Real good." 

Castiel gently took hold of the man's wrist and pulled it away from his tie. "I am only interested in finding Dean. In speaking to him. I do not need to be 'loosened up' by you or anyone else."

"Oh yes you do, or you wouldn't be looking for him. Listen, we can do this any way you like. I'm very flexible and I like your looks. Just tell me how you want it, and I'll make it happen. I'll take good care of you."  
Some of the guys made catcalls, watching the negotiations.

Castiel ran his fingers through his hair and struggled to keep his powers from triggering any electrical surges as his frustration built. How hard could it be to do a good deed? He pulled out his wallet and extracted a hundred dollar bill. "I am only interested in Dean Winchester. What I want is to speak with him. Make it happen and this hundred is yours."  
"He's usually a couple streets down, works the corner where there's the gas station. I can show you if you like, or we could, you know... party together, all three of us." Leaning in, he took the hundred and rubbed it against his chest, eyes locked on Castiel's.

"Get in," was all Castiel said.

"Good decision." Grinning, he hopped inside. "You can call me Kevin," he said, running his hand over Castiel's arm as they headed back into the traffic lane. "I've never seen you here before, and trust me, with this car... I'd remember."

Castiel glanced over at the man. "I have never been down here before. I must speak with Dean Winchester and this is apparently where I can find him at night." He refocused on the road. "I am not looking to 'hit' on him. I must fix an error that was made earlier today that has likely put him in a difficult situation. I wish only to remedy that. Where is this gas station?"

"Sure, whatever you say. Keep going," he said, looking out and searching the sidewalk. "With the kind of money you got to blow, I'm sure he'll give you whatever you want." Laughing, he looked at Castiel's unsmiling silhouette and rolling his eyes, looked back out of the car, gesturing at people he knew and calling out to one of them to make sure they saw him. "Okay, pull to the right lane and drive slow so I can spot him if he's around."

They slowed down each time they saw guys just hanging around in groups. Kevin practically hung out of the car, looking up the cross streets. They'd just passed the gas station when he touched Castiel's arm. "Right there," he said, pointing at the guy sitting on the back of a bus stop bench, with his feet planted on the seat. He was wearing jeans that were ripped at the knees and thighs, and a tight black tee shirt that, because of the position he was sitting in, with both hands gripping the back of the bench on either side of his body and leaning slightly, showed his midriff. As soon as he saw the silver car approaching, he tilted his head back and bit his lower lip.  
"Yeah, that's him." 

"Then complete our deal to earn the hundred dollars." He handed the man a twenty. "You can take a cab back to your preferred location. Get Mr. Winchester into my car so I may speak with him."

Kevin was quick to pocket it. "Threesome's still on the table. Or I can videotape you two going at it, something you can jack off to over and over."

"No thank you. Please, just get him to the car," Castiel said, trying to keep his patience with the man.

"Whatever." Opening the door, Kevin got out, put the money away, and leaned back into the car. "Okay so, just drive up to him, slow down, and he'll come up to you. Good times." Winking, he headed off in the opposite direction.

"Wait! You were supposed to..." Castiel watched the man walk away. "Humans can try the patience of a saint and most definitely an angel," he growled. He stepped on the gas and as Kevin told him, stopped in front of Dean and looked over at him. "I wish to speak with you, Mr. Winchester," he called out.

Dean hopped off the bench and walked closer, putting his hands on the door frame. "How'd you get my name," he started, and then he recognized the man. "You!" Despite the anger in his tone, heat washed over Dean at the sight of the guy who'd bought him a world of trouble. His jaw hardened as Jacques’ accusations came back to him. "Forget it... don't even fucking think about it. Not interested in your games." 

"I am sorry the owner of the restaurant fired you. I do not know why he thought you propositioned me. I tried to tell him you did nothing more than spill some wine. Please, I feel badly for this misunderstanding," Castiel told him, meeting Dean's gaze. "I would like to remedy the situation. If you would get in the car, perhaps we could go talk?"

"Get in your car so we can talk. Yeah, right," Dean scoffed, doing a double take at the way the guy was looking at him, or rather staring. "You accused me of being attracted to you. It either pissed you off or wound you up, then you lied to my ex-  
boss, that's how it went down. Now fuck off, I need to work double time and I can't with you in front of my... shop."

Pushing away, he walked a few feet up the street, standing on the edge of the sidewalk and checking out other cars as they passed. Under any other circumstances, he'd probably have forgotten all about the job and be drooling over the car. A Mercedes SLR McLaren. Didn't that cost like a half a mill? It just doubly pissed him off that someone like this guy would walk all over a waiter.

"But you are attracted to me," Castiel said louder, leaning toward the passenger side, a look of mild confusion crossing his face. "I understand it is my fault you are jobless." He fell silent a moment then drove up beside Dean again and asked. "How much does an hour of your time cost?" 

Having the truth about his attraction thrown in his face incensed Dean. "For you? I'm priceless. Nothing you could pay me would get me in your car. Now beat it. I have a job, and you're stopping me from doing it." Making a face at the man, Dean walked away again, gritting his teeth when he heard the car speed up and catch up. "Look, I'm not interested. Go to a fundraiser, some wine tasting event, have a nice life, just leave me the fuck alone." 

"Five hundred dollars," Castiel said.

Hearing the amount, Dean stumbled. He was looking at the man when another car, a truck pulled over and the passenger window was rolled down. Telling himself he was doing the right thing, Dean walked away and stuck his head inside the window. The guy looked decent enough but he said he liked being rough. Slapping on an extra charge for that and warning the guy that he'd cut his balls off if he went too far, Dean opened the door and hopped in, never looking back at the silver car. But he couldn't get the car or its owner out of his mind, and that irritated the hell out of him.

***

"Mr. Winchester," Pauline McDowell called out as she hurried across the parking lot in her high heels. "I've left you three messages. We need to discuss your account." She puffed a little with exertion as she approached Dean, clipboard in hand. "We realize you are making a good effort to pay, but you are almost three months behind. Currently you owe us nearly forty thousand dollars and this month's bill will soon be due, raising your debt by another fifteen thousand. We will have to cease treatment and request you relocate your brother and yourself until you have caught up. At that time, we can discuss you returning, assuming we still have a place in the program for your brother."

"Miss McDowell... Pauline," he gave her a smile he wasn't feeling. "I'm sorry I haven't returned your calls, I've been busy. Here, I can write you a check for six now. I'm working on catching up, and there are some guys, some friends raising money. Once it's collected, I swear I'll catch up." Seeing the tell tale frown, he quickly added, "and I did fix one of the facility vans. Eric said there was a high profile patient that needed to be picked up and... you know me." He spread his hands.   
Pauline scribbled down some notes. "Yes, the van. That was very important. I'll put in a thousand dollar credit to your account for that and I don't think anyone will complain. Another six thousand now... typically at a debt of forty-five thousand dollars, our rules stipulate treatment must be stopped." She paused and gave Dean a small smile. "Of course for most that's only a month behind, but the 'Renewal' charity is contributing and then there is your discount." 

She glanced back down at her clipboard. "Let's see, at the end of the month you will owe us almost fifty four-thousand dollars, less seven thousand, is almost forty-seven thousand. If you can get me another twenty-five hundred before the end of the month, I can keep the board from ceasing treatment. If you can't, I can't promise anything though I'll try." She gave him an understanding smile. "I know this is very hard, I know your brother has made tremendous progress in the time he's been here and continues to make good progress. The doctors are very pleased as it looks like he will be a great success story, very good for business for us, enhancing our doctors' abilities to get grants and the charity can use his case to their benefit as well. So you do have a lot of points on your side for the board wanting to keep him here in therapy. Do you think you can produce at least another twenty-five hundred by the end of the month?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, sure, no sweat." Three days until the end of the month. He could pick up his restaurant check, that was $500 because most of the money he made there was on tips. Then the garage owed him maybe $400. Shit... "Twenty five hundred, I'll bring it over personally in a couple days," he promised. "And thanks. I mean that." Bobby had pulled strings and that was part of why the people here were being so nice, and they'd given him a steep discount because of the lack of insurance, but he could tell he was getting near the end of the rope with them. 

After a moment of hesitation she added, "We're going to need another ten thousand by the fifteenth of next month. I'm really sorry, Mr. Winchester. I will do everything I can to keep them at bay for as long as I can," she said, laying her hand lightly on his shoulder and squeezing it.

The weight of the world shifted from his shoulder to his heart, crushing it. "Alright," he managed with a nod, running a hand over his face. "I'll get it. Even if I have to steal it." He pulled away slowly and headed for his car, his mind spinning in a thousand directions. He couldn't let Sam be tossed out of here, he just couldn't. He knew damned well that this was the best care available, and that it was working, whereas everyone else he'd turned to had given him bad news in those early days after the accident. Accident his ass. A possessed driver had plowed over Sam and changed both their lives, forever it seemed.

He heard her heels clicking on the pathway, walking behind him. Crap, he'd forgotten he told her he'd write her the check. Reaching the Impala, he pulled his wallet out and rifled through the bills until he found the couple emergency blank checks he kept. "Can I borrow your pen?" His voice was huskier than usual and he tried not to look at her as he accepted it and quickly wrote the check. "Here you go."

Once she left, he went to the back of the car, opened the trunk and scanned his surroundings to make sure no one was around. Then he opened up an empty duffel bag and started to rummage inside the hidden compartment. An ache blossomed in the pit of his stomach as he selected the weapons he'd pawn, but would probably never be able to buy back. Some of them were just weapons, but several of them, unfortunately the most valuable ones, had special meaning to him. They were just things, he told himself. They weren't important. The only thing, person, who was important to him was fighting to get his life back and Dean would do everything in his power to make sure Sam made it. Whatever it took. Slamming the trunk, he got behind the wheel and took off.

*

An hour and a half later, he walked out of the pawnshop with a little more cash in his pocket. Across the street, he saw a Starbucks and thought he needed a coffee and maybe a little time alone before he faced Sam. He wanted to make sure his brother couldn't read him, that he had everything together before he saw Sam again. 

Jogging across the street and getting yelled at because he stopped traffic, he pushed the glass door open and walked inside. The aroma of coffee was always calming, at least to him. There wasn't a line and he got to put his order in immediately. He didn't have the heart to flirt back with the honey behind the counter and he passed on the sweets. Grabbing his cup, he went and found a place in the corner, a nice sofa near the window.

"You are deeply troubled," Castiel said, sitting down on the sofa beside Dean. "As you are not working now, will you speak with me?" 

Dean opened his eyes. "Dude, give up already. You were hot for about two minutes, and now you're not." He gripped his paper cup too tight, almost forcing the liquid up over the top and quickly took a sip, then cursed when he burned his tongue. 

"My temperature has not changed," Castiel said, sounding mildly baffled. He held out his hand. "I am Castiel. I am also known as James Novak, but I prefer Castiel."

"Your temp..?" The strange comment distracted Dean for only a split second. "You really can't take a hint, can you?" Eying the man's hand, he didn't shake it. "What do you want?" Lifting his eyes, he locked gazes with Castiel's, hating that a shock ran through him in that instant. "No, really, what do you want from me?"

Castiel lowered his hand to his thigh. "I wish to make amends. Have I not made that clear? You lost your job at the restaurant because of me. You are obviously in deep financial need since you sell your body and that is not in your nature." He gave a brief gesture to the light bruises on Dean's throat. "And you allow yourself to be brutalized. I have compounded your problems. I would like to help you find employment. I have a great many resources available to me that I could make available to you."

Dean's eyes widened. "You want to be my sugar daddy." Now he'd seen it all, a guy who went through the trouble of getting someone fired in order to buy them. He also had a good guy complex or something and was pretending this was something it wasn't.

Castiel tilted his head and his brow furrowed. "What is a sugar daddy?" He shook his head, his eyes intense and focused on Dean. "Never mind. Yes. I want to be."

"I knew it." To this guy, he was just a pawn on the chessboard. "Told you before, you can't afford me," he said, looking out the window. The five hundred thousand dollar car was parked right there, like it was framed. Like a big damned clue. "I cost sixty thousand for three days and nights, half the money up front." He turned back, expecting to haggle. He’d do it for ten, in a heartbeat.

Castiel's eyebrows lifted. After a moment he reached out and took Dean's hand, gripping it lightly and closing his eyes. He finally released Dean's hand, opened his eyes and gave a nod. "Seventy thousand. For a week," Castiel countered.

"I can't. I can't do a week, I have to..." How could he leave Sam for that long? He'd gone on short hunting trips but never for more than two days. Still, seventy thousand, that was like a gift from God, if God gave a shit. "I'd need a few hours off here and there, two or three times. I'd make it up to you, give you whatever you want. Whatever you need," he said, slipping into the character he'd developed. "Almost anything," he added, bringing his face real close, close enough for Castiel to steal a kiss if he wanted to seal the deal another way.

Cas breathed in Dean's scent and a look of surprise crossed his face with Dean's so close to his own. "Of course." He reached into his jacket and pulled out his checkbook. Writing a check for ten thousand dollars, he ripped the check free and folded Dean's hand over it. "I'll pay you a day at a time." He pulled out a card from a case and held it out. "Be at this address in three hours." 

"Three hours. You got it." Dean looked at all of the zeros on the check and swallowed. "I'll be the best damned rent-boy you ever had," he promised, brushing his mouth against Castiel's. He held his breath, longing for what never came. Even when he licked the seam of Castiel's lips, the man neither parted his lips nor gave him his tongue. Pulling away, Dean got up. "Right, no PDA for you, got it. See ya in three... Cas." Pocketing the check, he grabbed his cup and left the coffee shop, stopping for a long moment in front of the guy's car, before heading to his own.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sam?" Dean walked in and looked around at the empty room. Striding to the table near the door, he looked at the written schedule and the check mark indicating where Sam had been taken. It was a little early, but it seemed he'd been taken to the patients’ cafeteria. Dean immediately headed back out, taking the path that lead behind the main building. 

Facing the mountains was a large deck. Tables were set up for the patients, both inside and on the deck. Some ate alone, some in groups, many had one-on-one help with eating. Looking around, Dean spotted Sam on the deck, being fed by one of the aides. "Fredericka," he said, giving her a smile. "I'm gonna be around, I'll help him with lunch."

"Okay, you two have fun. I'll be back with dessert, Sam. Maybe this time your brother won't inhale it." Grinning at the pair, she walked off.

Dean watched her hips sway, then looked back at Sam and saw the familiar look in his eyes. "Dude, she's all yours. I'm just looking," he protested, picking up the fork and scooping up some mashed potatoes. 

Sam gave him a questioning look as he accepted the small amount of mashed potatoes. After swallowing he said, "Hap-py. Good? Ob?" He glanced at the water then looked back at Dean expectantly.

"Oh yeah, very happy... got good news." Bringing the water close, he waited for Sam to take a few sips from the straw. "Remember I told you I have some irons in the fire? Well one of them panned out. Look," he pulled his phone out, scrolled through some pictures and showed Sam a picture he'd taken of Castiel's car. "Dude who owns this car, he needs someone to take a look at his fleet of cars. His classic cars, not this one," he added, stating the obvious. He gave Sam another forkful of food, then dug in his pocket again. "Look at this."

Taking the check out of his wallet, he unfolded it, held it up for Sam to see and then put it on the table. "That's just for starters. I know, it's crazy right? I think the guy's just so loaded he doesn't know what to do with it. Anyway, his cars are kind of all over, garaged in different places so I'm gonna have to be gone for a while. About a week." Feeling the intensity of Sam's stare, he added, "but not all the time. I mean I should be able to come visit a couple times, I told him I'd need some time off. But he's really high maintenance, and I didn't want to push it, you know? You think you'll be okay?"

Sam lifted his arm, holding out his hand. When Dean took hold of his hand, Sam squeezed it and nodded. "’K." Giving Dean a worried look he said, "Care. No freeee. Call." He stared at his brother hoping he understood he wanted his brother to be careful, that nothing was for free.

"You want me to call you. Course I'm gonna call you," Dean said, squeezing his brother's hand. He was worried, he didn't want to leave Sam alone for that long, but there was no way an opportunity like this was calling twice. "I'll take a bunch of pictures and show them to you, okay?" Letting go, he stabbed the fork into the vegetables on the plate and wrinkled his nose.

"’K," Sam said. "Care. Fill. Careeeful," he struggled with the word but finally got it out. "Bad man eyes," he said then opened his mouth for the mixed vegetables as he let his hand fall back into his lap. He slowly chewed the vegetables and swallowed, making a face.

"Careful. I'm always careful, Sam." And he was, especially now that it was so important for him to be around, to be able to take care of Sam. He chuckled at the face Sam made. Apparently boiled veggies weren't to his taste either. "How about I get you a real nice, juicy hamburger when I come back in a couple days? Sound good? With lots of onions... okay, forget the onions, but french fries, you'd like that." 

"Pee-sa," Sam said. He gave Dean a longing look. "Dr. Pepp. Yes?"

"Sure Sammy, I'll bring pizza and Dr. Pepper. Do you want to try using the fork? I'll help you," he said, waiting for Sam to put his hand on the fork. Closing his hand around Sam's, he helped him grip the fork and then shoveled some food on it and brought it to Sam's mouth. "You remember when they told us you wouldn't speak? You've come a long way, and I see improvements every day. Like you're getting better faster, you know? In fact, Pauline McDowell told me you just might be their poster child for success, whaddaya think about that?" 

"Slow," Sam said, giving Dean a look that showed just how frustrated he was. "No speak, no read, no walk, no food, no pissss." He sighed. "No like." With Dean's help he took another bite of his meal.

"I know, I know. But you're gonna get there, Sam, I swear to God you will," he vowed, wishing he could take on some of what Sam was feeling, could help him some more. He hated feeling helpless and watching his brother suffer through this. As much as he said they were in it together, he wasn't the one who was stuck in that wheelchair. He wasn't the one who had to put all of his effort into it, just for the victory of moving his hand or a finger. And he wasn't the one who had all these thoughts locked up in his head, having difficulty communicating them. "You know, they said once you could use a finger, you might be able to work a computer. I'll check on that, okay?"

"Yes!" Sam said, brightening considerably. He looked at his lunch and shook his head. "No food. Drink." He finished off most of the water when Dean brought the straw to his lips, then looked at his brother again. "When..." he scowled as he struggled to remember the word. He seemed to finally settle on saying "Ob?"

Using a napkin, Dean wiped Sam's mouth. "He needs me to start right away. I'm gonna come to your therapy session for an hour, then I go get packed, take care of the check and head out to the west side. He's staying at some fancy schmansy hotel on Wilshire, off of Rodeo. I'll make sure admin has all the contact information, and you, too. If you need anything, just have them call me, no matter when. Want a little more?" Turning the straw so it faced the right way, he waited for Sam to finish his drink.

Sam nodded his understanding. He looked past Dean to the approaching woman who carried a tray. Sam grinned at Dean. "Pie. Two."

"What can I say, my bro's got a big appetite and a sweet tooth."

The server shook her head and put a slice of pie in front of each of them along with two glasses of water and walked away.

"Guess she knows us too well. Mmm, it smells good," he said, inhaling the scent of apples and cinnamon and offering the first forkful to Sam. They ate mostly without speaking, but they'd never felt the need to fill in the silence either before or after the accident. Between them, sometimes looks were enough to carry on a whole conversation, just with nods and expressions. 

Dean polished off his entire slice, while Sam had a good portion of his own. After Dean let Sam's nurse know he'd get Sam to therapy, he took him out, down one of the paths that lead into the woods. He caught Sam up on news about Bobby and told him the older hunter promised to come see them soon.

The time passed quickly and he got Sam to therapy. Watching his brother struggle to point and press, something he couldn't do a short while ago, and try unsuccessfully to lift his foot, and yet try again, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. One thing he did know was that he was damned proud of his little or not so little brother. When the time came for him to leave, he merely caught Sam's eyes, gave a head nod, and slipped out of the room.

* * * 

He'd left the contact information for both Sam and admin, signed over the ten thousand dollar check, and given it to Ms. McDowell. At the time, he'd gotten the feeling that she was so happy she was going to hug him, not that he blamed her. Making sure to ask her to look into getting Sam hooked up with computers and arranging for someone to stay overnight with him, he finally took off.

Now that he'd pulled into the parking lot of the Beverly Wilshire Hotel and told the valet to fuck off, he'd take care of his own car, Dean hesitated for a moment. He'd honestly been excited because this was a way out of their troubles. It would take care of not only the medical costs they'd incurred in the past, but also a couple months into the future. He recognized that as a gift, he really did. But what made him wary now was that he really had been bought for seven days straight. When he'd first started giving up sex for pay, he'd done it with both women and men. Very quickly, he'd learned that the deed was done quicker with guys because they usually didn't expect him to stick around or anything. He could move on to the next customer, or go home and take a shower and either wash it all away if it hadn't been a good experience, or else once in a while, get a second helping using his imagination and hand. Either way, the job part of it was over and done. More guys also cruised for sex, and they paid better, though squeezing a tip out of them was harder. The high paying women wanted the deal brokered and it just got too complicated; he didn't like having a third party in the mix  
.  
Where did all this leave him now? He was one Castiel James Novak's for a whole week, like it or not. Telling himself it was a plus that he was attracted to the guy, Dean got out of the car. For ten thousand a day, he could do this. It was a helluva lot better than selling his soul, something he had thought of in his darkest hours, right after the accident. 

He walked into the lobby and shook his head ‘no’ to the bell hop that approached. All he had was the duffel bag. It didn't matter that well dressed men and women were watching him, he reminded himself they did that no matter what he was wearing. Yeah, so maybe he stood out a little with his ripped jeans that didn't come designer ripped, and a well worn jacket over his tee shirt, but so the hell what. Licking his lips, he looked around the lobby and didn't see Castiel, then looked at his watch.

After a minute of watching Dean, the well-dressed manager approached him and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, sir, may I help you?" Stepping back a little and looking Dean over, he asked, "Are you certain you are in right place?"

"Yeah, I'm not lost." Dean met and held the man's gaze. He could tell by his bearing and the way the people behind the registration desk were looking to him that he was probably the hotel manager. "I'm waiting for someone," he said with a hint of rebellion in his voice. "They'll be here soon."

"Are you waiting for one of our guests?" the man asked him.

"Yeah." Dean raised a brow. "Is there a problem?"

The hotel manager's brow creased. "This is a very exclusive hotel. The guests here expect a certain...dress code and a certain...behavior. Who is expecting you so I might ring them and let them know you are here?"

"Dude, I just walked in, there hasn't been any behavior." He let out a breath. "Castiel something... Novak. Ring a bell?" He tried to leash his irritation.

"Mr. Novak?" the manager asked, surprise flickering across his features. "This is most certainly... new. He is not here at the moment. Why don't you have a seat in that room." The manager indicated a room that appeared to be a small room used to hold business meetings. "I'll have the bartender bring you something to drink while you wait. What would you like?"

Dean was about to tell the guy to fuck off when it sank in that he was being offered a free drink. "I'll take a beer," he said, deciding he needed one. It was clear he wasn't completely happy, but he went to the small conference room, swearing to himself that if they shut the door, or if Castiel was more than a half hour late, he was walking out. 

Shortly, a spritely brunette with a glittering smile walked into the room, three beers on her tray. "Mr. Thompson said you'd like a beer. I didn't know what type you might like, so I brought you bock, a pale ale, and good old fashioned regular beer. So what's your flavor, sir?"

"Old fashioned will do just fine," he answered, watching her take the cap off. "From the bottle is fine." Taking it, he thanked her and looked out the door, then back at her. "Is there some sort of event going on?" The lobby seemed to be filling up with people in black tie clothing and it wasn't even evening yet.

She glanced over her shoulder. "No, nothing special. That's the dress around here, mostly. Everyone staying here probably makes more in a day then you and I make in a year. Would you like to watch some TV while you wait?"

He'd made ten thousand today and hadn't yet lifted a finger, but he guessed it wasn't something to gloat about. "Sure," he said, looking around the room. The mystery was cleared up pretty quickly when she pressed a button on a remote and a picture frame on the wall disappeared into the ceiling, revealing a flat screen. After turning the TV on, she gave him the remote. 

Once she'd stepped out, he started flipping channels. If there was a porn channel, he'd bet it would bring that Mr. Thompson running in to stop him. The thought had Dean grinning to himself, though he knew he wouldn't have such luck.

Almost an hour later, Dean was fucking bored and getting angry. He could have spent more time at Sam's therapy instead of cooling his heels in some conference room that was so warm he'd had to take his jacket off. He'd polished off his beer, and a second one, but somehow knew he wasn't going to be offered another. 

Pushing up from the much too comfortable chair, he walked out, making eye contact with the guests he passed. A few looked him over in a way that told him they might want to chat him up, or would if he were at the bar. He did tend to slip into his hooker persona when he was working, it helped get customers and now seemed to happen more naturally. 

Passing Thompson, he reached the check-in counter. "Can you tell me what room Castiel Novak is in? Or try his room?" Seeing she was about to refuse, he added. "Look, he was supposed to be down here an hour ago. I'm sure he'd consider it a favor if you got in touch with him and reminded him, in case he's forgotten."

The manager walked up to Dean, frowning at his too tight tee and tight jeans. "Mr. Novak isn't in. He left this morning and has yet to return." 

"Do you shadow everyone that walks into the hotel," Dean demanded, his frustration showing.   
"I do my job as hotel manager to ensure everything runs smoothly." He suddenly focused his attention behind Dean. "Mr. Novak. Welcome back."

Castiel looked harried and tired. "Thank you, Bernard. Dean, I apologize for my lateness. Last minute issues at the business meeting. Please, join me."

"Mr. Novak, your..."

"Friend."

"Friend. Yes. Of course. His clothes aren't what the patrons expect of this establishment."

Castiel nodded. "I intend to remedy that, Bernard. Thank you for looking after him while I was delayed."

"Of course, Mr. Novak. And your friend will be staying for how long?"

"A week. He may have full access to the penthouse and anything he wants can be put on my bill."

The manager gave a small sigh and nod. "Yes, Mr. Novak."

"Guess that makes it my penthouse for the week. Come on Barney, give us a smile, I'm not that bad," he grinned, defiantly putting his arm around Castiel's waist. "Let's get you upstairs and relaxed after a long full day of mouse pushing, paper lifting and straining your wrist with all that contract and letter signing." 

Castiel tilted his head, giving Dean a strange look, but didn't make Dean let go of him.

"Shall I have your coat and 'luggage' sent up Mr...?" Mr. Thompson asked.

"Dean. Just Dean. Fine," he agreed, seeing as how they were insisting. "So? We going up, or out?" Dean asked, wondering at Castiel's stiffness but hanging onto him regardless. 

"Up, for now," Castiel said and walked with Dean to the elevator. Inside, he used the hotel key and pressed the button for the penthouse floor. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Always hungry. Are you? Hungry?" he asked, his voice lowering an octave as he pressed closer to Castiel and buried his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his light cologne. "I mean for... anything."

Castiel was speechless for a minute then said. "I like Chinese."

The door to the elevator opened and Castiel cleared his throat. "We're, uh, here."

"Yeah, we are," Dean said softly, his hot breaths puffing against Castiel's throat. "But just so you know, I didn't bring any Chinese silk pajamas or kimonos ... so if that's what you're hungry for, you're gonna have to get the clothing."

Pulling away slowly, he walked out of the elevator and into the suite. "This is definitely not your daddy's motel room," he announced, looking at the spacious living room and the open double doors leading to the bedroom. There were also French doors that lead to a large balcony.

"Why would this be my father's? I have no living relatives. Please, make yourself at home, Dean. I wish to shower and change clothes and then we can get you some appropriate attire and get some dinner."

Dean did a double take. "You're kind of literal, aren't you?" His gaze swept over the room one more time, then he started to follow Cas to the large, luxurious marble bathroom. Coming up behind him, he reached around and started to unbutton Castiel’s jacket, nuzzling his neck. "You really do smell good," he whispered.

"I...I was in an accident. Comatose for a few months. They say I changed and I have... forgotten... many things apparently. Many call me eccentric." He let Dean unbutton his jacket and made a soft sound as Dean nuzzled his neck. "That... that feels... it tingles," he finally said, but his voice held a note of uncertainty.

"Anything else tingling?" Dean teased as he slipped his hand under Cas' jacket and swept his hand over his stomach and abs, which he thought were remarkably firm for a businessman. Bet the guy had a personal trainer. 

"No...yes, now. Your touch is different.” Turning his head he looked up into Dean's face. "I have not needed help undressing or dressing since a few weeks after I awoke. I..." his voice faded as something inside him fluttered in a way that had never happened before. He swallowed hard. "Did you wish to...shower... too?"

"I'm clean, if that's what you're asking. But if you want company, shower's big enough," Dean answered, slowly unbuttoning Castiel's shirt and allowing his fingers to occasionally dance over his skin. Feeling Castiel's muscles tense under his palm, he smiled against his neck.

"I have never had anyone in the shower with me... If you are clean, it would be pointless, would it not?" he asked. "Your hands are warm," Castiel noted softly. 

"Whatever you want." Dean didn't quite remind him that he was the boss, but he did want to give the guy his money's worth. Since he was going to be paid daily, he needed to be sure he catered to Castiel's needs enough that he'd be wanted for all seven days. Now that he had the shirt completely open and untucked, both hands roamed over Castiel's chest and stomach and Dean pressed closer, rubbing subtly against the guy's ass. The heat, that charge he'd felt between them at the restaurant was still there. It made him feel a little out of control with his pulse racing and his own body reacting too quickly, and he wasn't sure whether to be pleased or worried.

Slowly, he drifted his hand downward, brushing it over Castiel's cock, then using both hands he started to unbuckle his pants. "You're tense, try to loosen up."

Castiel's hand shot to cover Dean's. "I can tend to the rest," he said quickly and cleared his throat. "But, uh, thank you. Please, go make yourself comfortable. I'll be done shortly and then we can go purchase some clothes for you." He carefully disentangled himself and half-escorted Dean back to the door of the bathroom. "There are cookies on the counter if you would like a snack. They taste very good with milk and there is some of that is the refrigerator. If you'd like. I won't be long," Castiel reassured Dean and then shut the bathroom door.

For several long seconds, Dean stared at the closed door in confusion. One minute he thought they probably would get it on, and the next he was being told to get cookies and milk. He was starting to wonder whether Castiel wanted to “play daddy” for real. Or did he want Dean to play the naïve kid? The guy might be smart and rich, but clarity wasn't one of his  
gifts.

Sighing, Dean pushed away from the door and explored the suite a little more. He checked out the balcony too while he was at it and took a couple of pictures on his cell for Sam. It wasn't that Sam would be all that interested in luxury, but more that because he was stuck at the facility, he liked to see what was out there, where Dean had gone and what he'd seen. It was something they could share. 

When he was done with that, he went to the couch, dropped down on it, lying on his stomach and turned on the TV. He wasn't doing cookies and milk, especially not as a beer chaser!

* * * 

Castiel dressed in one of his nicer suits and walked into the living room. He studied Dean relaxing on the couch. He had always sat on the couch, but seeing Dean relaxed on his stomach watching the TV, made Castiel tell himself he should try that position. Dean looked comfortable but not really happy. Hopefully, Castiel could change that. Giving a slight smile he asked, "Are you ready to go?"

"Sure." Dean rolled over and sat up. "Cas, do you want me to call you 'Daddy'?" he asked point blank, looking up.

Cas tilted his head and stared at Dean, confused. "Why would I want you to call me a parental figure?"

"Just having trouble reading you. You know, what you'd like." Putting his hands on his thighs, Dean got up and walked over to Cas, leaned in and took a long sniff. "Yup, still smell good," he said, deciding it wasn't cologne but soap. Grinning slightly, he headed to the elevator door and pressed the call button.

"What do you want to know?" Castiel asked as he followed Dean, surprising himself when he realized he was focusing on Dean's tightly clad ass. His Father had made humans in all shapes and sizes, but this particular human seemed special, like extra work had gone into him, making everything about his body perfect. That was surely it. Castiel was merely admiring the skilled work of his Father’s creation. Satisfied by the rationalization, he joined Dean and they waited for the elevator. Dean's duffel and coat were sitting beside the elevator doors.

"Public displays of affection, yes or no?" Dean raised a brow.

"Public displays..." Castiel stared at him a moment and shook his head as he tried to sort it out in his head. "Uhm, no. I think no would be best."

"I see." Dean stepped away, leaving much more room between them. "Dirty talk?"

Castiel thought for a minute and finally shrugged. "I don't know. Is 'dirty talk' good? I have never experienced it." He didn't have a clue what Dean was talking about, but often he didn't understand humans. He didn't understand why Dean had suddenly put so much space between them when he said he didn't want public displays of affection. He had liked that Dean seemed to like to stand close to him. It reminded him a little bit of home. 

"I see," Dean said again, a frown marring his forehead. "If you liked it, you'd already know it." Inside the elevator, he once again kept his hands off Castiel. "How about--"

Before he finished asking his question, the elevator stopped and a couple walked inside. Clearly they had nothing against public displays of affection as they were all over each other. Dean watched them, then looked at Castiel.

Castiel had long since learned not to overtly watch when two people were intimate with each other in public. He had learned how to be discreet in watching them, always fascinated as hands roamed and kisses became intense, and he could readily scent the arousal of both of the couple. Sometimes he envied them, even if he didn't fully understand it, neither the envy he felt inside him, nor what they were doing. He had researched human sexuality and love on the internet. They were words to him, not something tangible that he himself seemed able to feel. He was created by his Father to love and serve his Father and protect Heaven. When his Father made humans and he was told to love them, he did. He found them beautiful, loving their flaws and their innocence, their capacity to give everything selflessly for one they loved, and sometimes, for total strangers. Physical love was not something angels experienced. 

Sometimes he felt humans were like flawed versions of angels and other times he wondered if perhaps angels were the ones who were flawed, for though they could feel the universe, he wasn't certain he appreciated the universe the way humans were sometimes able to. Although he missed Heaven sometimes, he was glad of his forced exile, for he had no orders to follow, no one to answer to but himself, and he was able to interact with God's creations, something angels were generally forbidden from doing.

He noticed Dean was staring at him and he stepped closer to Dean. "They often do this in the elevator," Castiel said simply.

"I guess they're not allergic to a little... a lot of," he amended, "PDA." He was back to watching the couple, his expression reflecting amusement when one of them moaned just as the elevator doors opened up in the lobby and Mr. Thompson was right there. Following the couple out, Dean asked the hotel manager, "Aren't you gonna put them in the room of shame?"

Mr. Thompson gave Dean a tolerant smile then turned to Castiel. "Shall I have your car brought around, sir?"

"Yes, please," Castiel said. He turned to Dean and asked. "Would you like to drive?" He had had many people ask to ride in his car or be given a chance to drive it and he thought perhaps Dean would enjoy it.

"Oh hell yes," Dean answered loudly, drawing some stares. "I'll take as good care of her as I do my baby," he said as they headed for the Wilshire Boulevard exit rather than the back exit where the valet desk was situated. "You look worried," he said to the hotel manager. "Dude, I know cars."

"Dean, I need to speak with Bernard a moment." Castiel waved Dean to wait outside for the car. "I'll be right out."

He watched Dean walk through the doors and turned to the hotel manager. "A misunderstanding occurred at a restaurant and Dean was fired. I want to find him a job but am something at a loss as to how to do this. I offered to put my contacts at his disposal and he requested payment. I know he is in financial difficulty so I agreed but he seems to think I've hired him as a butler for the week. You have often counseled me. Do you have any advice?" Castiel asked the manager.

"Butler?" Bernard gave a slight smile. "That is an inventive way to be discrete about what he is although it's quite obvious to most of us who are used to seeing these sorts of... arrangements. Mr. Novak, if you did hire him accidentally, then it should be an easy matter to tell him you've changed your mind, the same way you do in running your business. His... line of work is illegal and he'll have no choice but to leave. On the other hand, if you do want his services, the hotel will turn a blind eye to it so long as it isn't too... blatant."

"I have not changed my mind. I wish to help him," Castiel said firmly. "But he does not need to be my butler."

"Some people don't accept charity." Bernard spread his hands. "It may be a matter of pride, it might not. You could slowly show him there is a better way, other lines of business he could pursue to make a living."

"So I should let him treat this as a job until I have." Castiel nodded. "Thank you, Bernard." He watched through the open doors as Dean walked around the car that had arrived, admiring it, practically caressing it, before he climbed in to the driver's seat. "As always, if you see me being improperly blatant I trust you will inform me."

The manager gave a nod and Castiel walked out the doors and climbed into the passenger's seat of the car. "Let us start by getting you some appropriate clothes. We'll buy you something now, and have you measured and have some tailored for you. Let us go to Battaglia on Rodeo."

"Appropriate for what? Are we doing something, I do have a suit with me," he offered, without making a move to pull away from the sidewalk.

"For dinner, for a few parties I have been invited to which I would like you to accompany me to." After a moment of thought, remembering the hotel manager's words he added, "Consider the clothing part of the job. Their cost will not come out of your pay and you may keep them when the week is done."

"If you're buying on Rodeo, yeah, it better not be coming out of my pay or I might end up owing you," Dean said with a snort, pulling away from the sidewalk. Although Rodeo Drive was pretty much across the street and a half a block or so away, there were some one way streets and Dean seemed happy to take the long way around.

"That's a lot of power, right here. Have you taken her out to a race track or on the open road to push her to her limit?" The streets were too crowded with cars and people for him to test the car, but his expression was definitely wistful. "Bet she's a sweet ride."

"No. We can do that later if you'd like. I don't... I drive well enough to get from place to place but I don't generally drive any more than I have to. I don't seem to be as skilled at it as most. I have many cars that are 'manual transmissions' and I have tried to drive them, but do poorly. I bought this one because it is an automatic. So you like cars?"

"Might say that." Dean looked over at Cas and grinned. "I have a '67 Chevy Impala. She was my dad's and she's a real beaute. Gotten us, me, through lots of tough times, and good times. She's been through hell and back, more than once, but she keeps on ticking. Wouldn't trade her for anything, even this," he said, changing lanes and going around the block, having spotted the store that Cas wanted to go to and needing to be on the side of the street where they could valet the car.

Castiel nodded, as he did when he didn't have any real idea of what the other person was talking about. "If you had a dream job, would it be working with cars?" he asked. "And what type of cars would they be?"

"If I know one thing about dreams, it’s they don't pan out." Slowing the car down, he parked next to the valet stand at the edge of the sidewalk. Just as he touched the door handle, the valet opened the door for him and was 'Sirring' him up and down. "Drive carefully, and don't scratch it. Park it away from other cars and you'll get a big tip," Dean told the guy, smiling at the additional 'yes Sirs,' he received.

Castiel opened the door of the car and couldn't help his amusement at the way Dean seemed to be enjoying getting 'sirred.' As they walked into the store, Castiel inhaled the scent of leather. They had handmade Italian shoes and some of the finest suits.

A man approached them. "Mr. Novak, a pleasure to see you again. What can we do for you?"

"Dean needs some suits and shoes. Whatever he wants. He'll need a suit to wear now, and then three more tailored to fit him as well as something appropriate for a black tie event." He looked at Dean. "Don't 'settle' for something. It should be comfortable, stylish and something you'll like wearing. The same with the shoes. And do not ask prices. Simply find what you like. Alphonse, if you'll please assist him?"

"Of course, Mr. Novak. Right this way, sir," the man motioned Dean further into the store.

Looking around, at first Dean merely shrugged at the clothing he was being shown. He mentioned that he wasn't one to wear lots of suits and he preferred boots to dress shoes. Alphonse merely nodded and kept showing him things, honing in on the types of suits and shirts that might appeal to Dean over some of the more classic suits.

After agreeing to try a few of the suits, Dean was shown shirts and a pink one made it into the 'to be tried' group, all of which was hung on a rail that Alphonse pushed along as they selected the clothing. Dean hadn't been consulted on that shirt but Alphonse merely said, "Mr. Novak is partial to pink shirts with charcoal suits."

Dean glanced back and saw that Castiel was seated on a sofa and was sipping from a glass of champagne. "Does he... ah... often bring people in here to dress up like dolls," he asked, a little sharpness to his tone.

"You're the first. I've never seen him with anyone unless it was associated with his business. He's wealthy but solitary. He goes to functions alone." The man sighed and said, "It didn't used to be that way. He was quite the ladies man before his accident. Fast cars, fast women. He smiled, he laughed, he enjoyed everything. Now," the man shrugged, "he's reserved and quiet, not much of one for small talk where as the old Jimmy Novak wanted to know everything about everyone. You must have made quite an impression on him."

"Ladies man, huh. Did he lose a lady in the accident?" Dean asked, a thoughtful look crossing his features as he touched the softest leather he'd ever felt. It was a leather jacket, completely inappropriate for the types of parties Castiel had said they would be going to.

"No, it was just him, foggy weather, and a deer. Killed the deer, put him in a coma. He's like a completely different man now though." Alphonse took the jacket and put it on the rack, seeing the way Dean seemed to like it. At Dean's questioning look, he said. "It's a classic coat, it will look good with any casual outfit you're in. We also have a selection of durable, well made, stylish dress boots to go with your suits since you don't like dress shoes. Some of our customers like to dress very well, but may be out in areas of questionable grounds, such as construction sites. I'm certain we can find something that pleases you."

Reaching for the leather jacket, Dean searched for the price tag, then dropped the tag like it burned his fingers. "Put this  
one back, it's not what he wanted," Dean said with a shrug. "But yeah... I'd rather go for boots than dress shoes." 

Alphonse left it on the rack he was pushing. "You can at least try it on. He did say whatever you wanted and if you haven't a coat for your casual clothes, I'm certain he'll approve of it." Alphonse motioned Dean on. "Besides, who knows when you might have another chance to try on a jacket of that quality? Over there are several suits of the less classical design. I think you might like a few of those. A bit James Bond in some cases," Alphonse said, smiling.

Castiel moved up to a different seat once Dean began trying on clothes, continuing to sip champagne and eat the occasional strawberry. The first suit was classic cut, dark blue but it just didn't look right on Dean. Castiel shook his head. They ran through three more of the more classic designs and Castiel didn't feel any of them were right. Dean came out in a black silk suit with a soft green shirt and Castiel sat up straighter. He smiled and nodded. When Dean came out in a charcoal grey suit with pink shirt, he could tell Dean wasn't thrilled with it, though he liked it. He gave it a maybe so that Dean could have it if wanted or pass if he didn't. When Dean came out in a thin pinstriped suit with a hat, Castiel chuckled. "You look like a gangster. Only if you want it." Several more sorts in a variety of styles and color combinations were modeled by Dean and Castiel decided the less classical and more stylish seemed to fit Dean best, and Dean seemed more comfortable in them as well. He gave nods to several. When they reached the black tie formal, Castiel kept shaking his head. Nothing seemed right until Dean came out in a grey one, with a button up vest that complimented him in every way. "Yes, that one," Castiel said firmly, admiring how stunning Dean looked in it.  
Standing up and stretching, Castiel gave a slight wave. "Choose your favorites from those, but I definitely want the grey tuxedo and the black one with the green shirt. So choose three more. Alphonse, once he's chosen, take his measurements and make certain everything is perfectly fitted to him."

"Of course, Mr. Novak."

As soon as they were out of ear shot, Dean muttered, "Thank God... I thought it would never end. If I'd wanted to be a runway model..." That didn't seem to elicit any response from Alphonse so Dean just rolled his eyes and walked into the large dressing room. Before he could pull the curtain shut, Alphonse was in there with him.  
"What are you doing?"

"I need to take a few quick measurements. Go ahead and take the suit off. This one here fit you the best and since Mr. Novak wanted you in one, this would be the one to wear. Tomorrow, when we deliver the tailored clothing, we can pick it up and make any necessary adjustments."

Dean took the jacket and shirt off and handed them to Alphonse, then waited.

Alphonse merely hung the clothes up and waited.

Sighing, Dean unzipped and pulled the pants off, then stood there in his shorts as Alphonse put the measuring tape across his chest, and arms. "Clothes looked fine, they don't need any--Sonovabitch."

Alphonse stumbled backwards gripping the curtains and then tearing them as he started to fall.

"I'm done!" Dean said.

"But... Mr... I need to..."

"Done."

Castiel hurried to the dressing room in a couple long strides. He offered Alphonse a hand up. "What happened? Is there a problem?" he asked, his eyes going from the tailor to Dean who seemed more than a little upset.  
"I was just measuring Mr... ah..."

"Why don't you try feeling me up?" Dean crossed his arms across his bare chest. "No one gets to grab my nads!"

"I wasn't... I was just measuring. Mr. Novak, Sir..." Alphonse sputtered.

"But Dean, you sell your body to strangers," Castiel said, slightly baffled. "And he was merely measuring you to ensure a good fit with no binding."

Dean's jaw jerked up. He looked at Cas, then at Alphonse who was looking away, then back at Castiel. "Last time I checked, I sold myself to you. If you wanna play with my nads, go for it. Anyone else... they'll get their fingers broken. So come on, Boss, measure me up." Dean's tone was light, if a bit forced.

Castiel sensed he had said something wrong. Picking up the measuring tape he knelt in front of Dean, his mouth near Dean's groin, and wrapped the tape around Dean's thigh. "Alphonse, is this correct?"

"A-a little higher. Yes, Mr. Novak, right there."

Castiel read off the measurement. Next he measured Dean's crotch, Alphonse verbally telling him how to adjust it to get the correct measurements. When Castiel measured Dean's inseam, his fingers brushed against Dean's balls and he dropped the measuring tape, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He picked the tape up and tried again, this time looking slowly up along Dean's body to meet those jade green eyes.

"It's alright. You're allowed to touch," Dean reminded him, the flat line of his mouth relaxing until the corners lifted a little. He put his hand on Castiel's shoulder. Alphonse gave a sharp gasp that seemed to make Dean smile more broadly and put his other hand on Castiel's shoulder. Slowly, Dean turned to look in the mirror.

Castiel twisted his head and saw their reflection. He had watched pornographic movies. They didn't seem to have much of a story in most cases but more a matter of how many scenes there could be fornication. Looking at Dean, mostly naked, and himself, down on his knees in front of him, he felt a strange stirring inside of him. In the movies he had watched, the one on his knees would be taking an interest in removing the rest of the clothes of the one standing, and then taking out his cock.

Castiel felt his face grow warm and he quickly turned back to the measuring tape and announced the inches. "Is that all that's needed Alphonse?"

"Yes, sir. Should I...leave the two of you alone for a few minutes, sir? I can let the others know this dressing room is off limits for now."

Castiel stood up, his body close to Dean's and found his gaze locked with that of the young man, then found himself staring at Dean's lips. Except when Dean had kissed him in the coffee shop, he had never been kissed before and suddenly wondered what it would be like. "No, I'll be along. Total up the purchases please. I'll be right out."

"Yes, sir," Alphonse said and hurried from the room.

Mimicking Castiel, Dean moved just a little closer. Close enough that he knew Cas could feel the heat radiating from his body. He licked his lips, swallowed, and whispered. "You know you can touch me there, too." He started to sway closer, winding one arm around Cas' shoulder. "I don't bite. Not unless you want me to."  
"I've never..." Castiel said softly, but seemed to be caught by Dean's gaze. 

"Been bitten? I'd be gentle," Dean said, closing the gap between them and slanting his mouth over Castiel's.

Castiel had no idea how to kiss, not in a way that wasn't pure and chaste as he might kiss one of his brothers or sisters. He slid one arm around Dean and pulled him closer as he pressed his lips against Dean's. Feeling Dean's tongue once against lick across the seam of his mouth, Castiel opened his mouth to mimic the gesture when instead he found their tongues suddenly entangled.

Dean's tongue probed the depths of Cas' mouth, exploring every corner and then engaging Cas' tongue in a heated dance. He pressed closer, groaning softly when Cas' hand moved down to his lower back and molded him closer. Closing his other arm around Cas, Dean deepened the kiss, moving suggestively, rubbing his hardening groin against Cas.

Castiel didn't know what to make of the situation, but his mind flashed back to the two lovers in the elevator. He gasped and stiffened, electrical fire shooting through every nerve in his body when Dean's hand ran down his back and between his shoulders to where his ethereal wings protruded from the human host. He knew Dean felt something as well based on the sound of surprise Dean made. Castiel quickly stepped back. "I-I will go pay for your clothes. Get dressed," he said and disappeared from the dressing room.

Mouth slightly open, Dean stood rooted to the spot as Castiel disappeared. Breathing hard, he went over it in his mind. The heat that inched through his veins when Castiel had started to respond to his kiss, the sudden surge of desire that had him drawing the man closer, pressing against him as he caressed his back. At the exact moment he felt his fingers slide through warm silk, a jolt traveled from Cas' body, through his hand and up his arm. He'd felt Cas tense, had heard his breath whoosh out and had seen the somewhat surprised or harried look in his eyes before he tore himself completely away and walked out.

"What the hell? Just what the..." he looked at his hand and shook his head. The jolt thing, ok, he seemed to find Castiel just that attractive. But he had to have imagined the rest. Cas' jacket was finely made and soft, but it wasn't like.... The thought of being cocooned in warm, wet silk, suddenly took Dean's breath away. Oh God, it had to be this place, he decided. Touching all these varying materials, being lectured on their fine points, it had to have gotten to him somehow. Yeah, he was going nuts, that had to be it.

Deciding not to think on it anymore, he quickly put on the suit Alphonse had left in the room for him. Looking around, he saw that his own things had already been taken, and there was a pair of boots. He shouldn't have been surprised that it was an exact fit, or that they were comfortable. Still, if Alphonse had any self preservation instincts, he'd best not have thrown Dean's stuff away.

He walked out and joined Cas who was signing a credit card slip that Dean was not about to check out. He was busy searching the man's silhouette when Alphonse reached out and almost touched his hair. Dean pulled away, "Hey!"  
"Mr. Novak..." Alphonse indicated to Dean's hair which had gotten a little mussed. "If you would just..."

Castiel glanced over at Dean. Reaching out, he ran his fingers through Dean's hair smoothing it down. "Thank you, Alphonse. Please have these items delivered to my penthouse as soon as they are ready."

"Of course, sir," Alphonse said with a smile and walked them to the door, handing Dean a bag containing his clothes. "Have a good day."

"You as well," Castiel said and stepped outside taking in a deep breath. "Give your bag of things to the valet to put in the car. We're just walking up a few blocks, if you don't mind walking?" he asked Dean.

"Nah, I was surprised we drove," Dean admitted. "You look like you need a smoke, and we haven't even done anything yet." Lifting the bag up, he backed away, then turned and headed for the valet. As he made the arrangements to have the clothes put in the car, he found himself doubly yes-sirred. It looked like clothes mattered, though the one he had on was so light and comfortable he had to admit he'd forgotten he was wearing a suit. 

Getting back, he whispered, "I'm all yours."

"Yes," Castiel said, his face flushing a little. "I thought we would go to Westime and get you a watch to go with your new clothes. It's just up this way." After they had gone a few steps he asked, "What is your favorite type of food?"

Dean hesitated. "Anything that's not raw, won't crawl off my plate and isn't too... out there. Oh, and none of that French food you like so much," he made a face, but sobered upon remembering his accidental spill. "Did I ruin them? Your manuscripts?" he asked, having lost his anger over being fired.

"The gospels? No. I managed to clean them. I got to them fast enough. By the time I came back out of the restroom with them, you were already gone." He gave a shrug. "I should not have had them out once I was ready to start eating. It really would have been my own carelessness, had they been damaged. I am still unsure why the manager thought you 'hit' on me, though. But certainly, we can avoid French restaurants. Perhaps steak or seafood?"

He wasn't completely convinced that Castiel hadn't said or done anything to make Jacques think just that, but he'd been around the man enough to know that he spoke a bit strangely. He'd also heard about people coming out of comas a bit strange, like developing an accent when they'd never had one. Alphonse wasn't the only one to imply Cas' personality had changed, the things Cas said implied as much as well. So maybe it was the guy's communication skills or lack thereof.

"Steak. Definitely steak. And Cas? I just might hit on you while we're eating. All under the table of course, I got your 'no public displays' message loud and clear." Which didn't stop Dean from running his hand up Castiel's back, searching, trying to repeat his earlier experience, even if it had just been his imagination.

"I favor red meat a great deal," Castiel said. He made no effort to escape Dean's touch and in fact, seemed to press into it a little. "Perhaps... discrete displays would be acceptable," he finally conceded. 

"Discrete, sure. I'm the poster child of discrete," he lied through his teeth. As they strolled along the street, he noticed how people checked each other out. They had come out to see and be seen. He and Castiel walked past a lot of shop windows, sometimes looking in. Dean wasn't all that interested in the things they sold but he kept giving himself sticker shock, at least in those cases where the price tag wasn't discretely hidden. He made a joke about the store owners hiding them to protect customers from heart attacks, but he wasn't sure Castiel got it.

Castiel touched Dean's arm and ushered him into the watch shop. "Choose what you like." He looked at the woman who approached them from behind the counter. "Do not let him know the price of anything. I want him to select something he likes without concern for cost."

"Of course," the woman said and smiled at Dean. After looking him over she led him over to a set of sleek looking watches that also promised durability for the athlete. When Dean tried to wave Castiel over to show him a couple different watches, Castiel shook his head. "Your choice to make this time."

Once Dean decided, Castiel chased him out of the store so Dean wouldn't see the price while the sales lady rang it up. When Castiel rejoined Dean he took hold of his wrist and looked at the watch. "Very good choice," Castiel said approvingly. "Now let's eat."


	3. Chapter 3

After a short walk, they reached a dark restaurant with wood paneled walls. It was a little weird to Dean that the second level of the restaurant was downstairs, rather than up, though he didn't comment as they walked down. The host met them and took them to look at a glass encased display filled with the various cuts of meat they offered. He pointed out the different cuts and described them, telling them which cuts were tender, juicy or marbled. Then he told them they could select their cuts here, if they wished.

Castiel pointed out an aged filet mignon as his choice.

"I'll have the same."

The selected cuts were pulled out of the display and the two men were taken to a mini-booth that would seat a maximum of three people. After they slid in, the waiter unfurled their napkins and set them on each of their laps. Castiel ordered the wine and they were left with the menus so they could decide on starters, how they wanted their steaks prepared, and sides.

Dean's stomach rumbled. "I think I only had pie today," he muttered. 

When the waiter came back, Dean just ordered fries with his steak and said he wasn't interested in appetizers.

Castiel ordered an appetizer of onion strings, a salad and a loaded baked potato.

After the waiter left, Castiel focused his full attention on Dean. "Tell me about yourself," he asked, sipping from his water while waiting on the wine to arrive.

"I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, frisky women and hot men." His well practiced lines came naturally. "I'm adventurous, have a touch of 'cowboy' in me, know what I mean?" he said with a wink and a tip of his imaginary hat. "I'm a good rider, and even better at giving a wild ride, but maybe you already knew that since you came looking for me." Shifting closer to Castiel, he pressed one thigh against Cas'. "What about you? You like to ride, or be ridden?"

The waiter had just appeared and almost lost the items on his tray. If Dean hadn't quickly raised his hand to steady it, the glasses and bottle of wine would have slid off and gone crashing onto the table. Dean gave Cas a pointed look, like it was Castiel's fault.

Castiel seemed interested as Dean began to talk, but that interest quickly turned into obvious confusion as Dean began to talk about giving wild rides. He didn't say anything as the waiter served their wine. Once the waiter left Castiel's brow furrowed and his lips pursed a bit. "I don't understand," he said quietly. "I knew little about you other than I caused you to lose your job and that you sell your body for cash. I know you are a caring person, and carry some sort of burden of guilt, but are pure of heart and spirit, though your self esteem is lacking and it shouldn't be. You are a good man. I did not know you were ever a cowboy or that you knew how to ride horses. I have never ridden a horse or any animal for that matter. I too enjoy sunsets and walking along the beach. I like clear days with a few clouds in the sky, a nice wind, and gardens. It reminds me of home, which I miss. Do you have any family or are you also without living relatives?"

"I wasn't talking about riding horses." Dean deliberately swept his gaze over Castiel, lingering on his lips, and then looking back into his eyes. "I meant... you know people." 

Castiel looked blankly at him a moment then his lips formed a small 'oh.' "I haven't...with anyone...done either," he said and looked away from Dean's eyes and into his glass of wine. 

Raising his brow in disbelief, especially having just heard that Castiel had been a ladies' man, Dean decided something else was bothering Castiel. "Sorry, I forgot, you don't like dirty talk. Guess I can be a little vulgar." He tried not to imagine what Sam's expression would be in response to his admission. "I'll tone it down," he promised, knowing full well he'd forget very quickly. "Here," he raised his glass. "Let's see what two hundred dollars a sip tastes like," he said, bringing the glass to his mouth.

"You do not seem to be vulgar, but you use many allusions which I do not recognize as allusions." He lifted his glass with Dean and sipped the wine. "It usually tastes quite good," Castiel said with a small smile. "Dean, I know nothing of James Novak's life other than what I have read or my associates have told me. While the James Novak in the past was someone who was very charismatic and socializing, the man sitting with you is not him. I have been told I am naïve of many things. I am very good as a corporate raider, I am very good at battlefield tactics, more so than the 'old' James Novak, but human social interactions...I am still inexperienced, even...inept...in many cases." Giving Dean a hard look he added, "And you are very adept at avoiding answering questions about yourself." 

"I've sold my body, not my soul, and not anything else." Dean was a little blunt, but he'd found it was the best way to be clear about these things. "Anyway, you wouldn't have a thing in common with the side of me that's not in the business. You'd think I was nuts, be horrified, or both, so... why don't we talk some more about you. What company are you out here raiding?" People liked talking about themselves, and Dean could put on an act, pretend to hang onto Castiel's every word even if the corporate bullshit tended to put him to sleep.

"I disagree. Perhaps we have nothing in common, but that doesn't mean I would not have an interest in it. I sincerely doubt anything you say would make me think you were nuts or horrify me. I may be naïve with social interactions but I am not naïve about the world. Please, I am sincerely interested in the real Dean Winchester. The one who likes cars. The one who wants to take my car out and see how fast it can go," Castiel said.

"Don't say my last name. Please. One day I'll be out of this...and I don't want it following me around. If you have to use a name, just, how about Hendrix?" He looked up as the onion strings were brought to the table, and the waiter set two plates down though Dean hadn't ordered any. "Smells good. You should dig in."

"Please, help yourself," Castiel said motioning to the mound of lightly breaded fried onion strings. "I certainly won't eat them all. Agreed, I won't mention that name again. So tell me about your car that you love." Castiel lifted up some of the onion strings with his fork and placed a pile on his plate. He drizzled a bit of ketchup on them then used his fingers to pick up some and tilted his head back as he began to lower them into his mouth. "Mmm. I like fried onions," Castiel murmured around a mouthful.

"Aren't you supposed to use a fork and be all stuffy?" Dean laughed, suddenly liking this man a whole lot more. Helping himself to some of the thinly sliced, crunchy onion blossom, he chose to pour barbecue sauce over his, then emulated Castiel and used his fingers to eat. Only, he licked his fingers clean. "Mmm, like barbecue and onions." As they ate, Dean told him a little about the Impala, telling him it had been smashed to smithereens more than once and how he'd rebuilt her. He expertly dodged the questions about how she'd been damaged, or anything that sought out his personal  
history or his family.

"You are a difficult man to get to know," Castiel said. He tried some barbecue on the onion strings and decided he preferred the ketchup. "I still know nothing of you. I would like to help you get out of this life if you'll let me, but I haven't any idea what you would like to do in its stead."

Castiel's salad arrived just then, he nodded to the waiter, and then returned his gaze to Dean.

"I'm not asking for help. I don't want your pity. Let's just have a good time, alright?" Dean really wanted that. Although he was still a little anxious about changing things up, not being in a position to bang and leave, he'd found that he was enjoying himself. Something about this man had intrigued him from the beginning, even drawn extreme reactions from him. Maybe he wanted a chance to explore what that was about.

"I don't pity you. I see you as a strong man, willing to do what it takes to get through a bad situation, and obviously, you believe one day you will be able to move on from where you are now. That trait should be admired. Too many would wallow in self-pity, but you, you are a warrior. I know you are not asking for help, but it doesn't change that I would like to offer it. The offer is there if you find you change your mind. I want nothing in return except perhaps a word of thanks if you choose to accept the offer. And yes, I would like to 'have a good time.' I have been told by more than one person that I do not know how to do that." Castiel speared some of his salad on to his fork and began eating it.

"That's what I'm here for, to show you a good time." He didn't answer Cas and wasn't about to get into it about money not fixing everything. "Starting now." He waited for Cas to swallow, before leaning over and licking his mouth. "Just cleaning off the ketchup," he said.

After that, while they ate, he made sure to touch Cas. With his thigh, or with his hand on Castiel's thigh, or on his back, brushing the man's hair off his forehead, using almost any excuse. He could see Cas getting flustered and affected, which was the whole point. By the time they finished their steaks and passed on dessert, he thought Cas might be breathing a little fast and looking at him like he was the apple pie. "Shall we go for a spin in the car?" he asked, "We could park, put the seats back, and get naughty."

"A drive sounds good," Castiel said, signing the visa receipt when the waiter brought it, leaving the tip spot blank but copying the total down to the appropriate line.

"Tip. Tip!" Dean insisted, pointing at the blank spot on the form. "For someone who says you care about one stranger, what about all the other strangers working their asses off giving you good service. In a place like this, tip should be about twenty percent. Or else you'll end up with waiters not wanting to serve you, like Mike, the night I took your table. Or worse, some do nasty things to your food."

Castiel scowled. "My assistants said I don't have to put anything in that spot." He looked at Dean and asked quietly, "Twenty percent of what?"

"Of the total bill." He explained that many waiters actually made their living off tips, as did the valets and various other working people. He couldn't believe that Castiel didn't know this already, but didn't put him on the spot. Once Cas left the tip in cash, they walked out and strolled down a few blocks to get to the car.

When the valet brought the car over, Dean saw Cas give the guy a tip and smiled in approval. Then he crossed in front of Cas and took the driver's seat, grinning like he'd gotten away with something even though it was pretty clear Cas meant to allow him to drive. They took off and Dean drove straight to Laurel Canyon, negotiating the twisting roads expertly. Merging onto Mulholland Drive, he stepped down harder on the gas, giving a loud whoop as the car hauled ass. "Handles beautifully," he declared.

Their windows were rolled down and the warm night air flooded the car. After passing a few places marked 'scenic view,' Dean pulled over at one, slowing the car and letting it roll close to the edge, from where they could see the city lights. Turning, he watched Cas, willing him to turn toward him.

Castiel glanced over at Dean. "Is this a place you come to often?"

"Sometimes. When I need to get away, to think. Or places like this." He stretched his arm behind Cas' shoulders and leaned in. "What are you thinking? I can't ever tell what's behind your eyes."

"I cannot begin to put into words all that is in my mind. You would not understand much of it and you would...think I was crazy," he said. He looked out over the city stretched below them. "I like to fly over cities, both during the day and at night, but at night the cities remind me of the stars overhead. They are like a small universe unto themselves. Like the stars, people are being born, people are dying, colliding with each other, meeting and locking together in a dance that lasts their lifetimes. Some grow brighter, some dim, some have many children swirling around them while others are barren. God's creations are amazing and beautiful." Turning back to face Dean he reached out and ran his fingers along the side of Dean's face. "Some it seems He took extra care with, made extra beautiful, both inside and out, though truly, it is the inside beauty that is most attractive and so many people do not bother to look beyond what is on the outside. Often that extra Grace granted to them means they must endure greater hardships than others. They wonder why and so do I. I have watched people for so long, yet I still barely grasp their nature in so many ways. You are beautiful, Dean Winchester, but I do not understand you and I would like to. You make me feel strangely, in ways I have never felt before, ways I don't understand. The more time I spend with you, the more I wish to spend with you. I want to see your eyes alight with joy," Castiel smiled, "to hear your exclamations of joy as you drive a car too quickly, and the way you look at me sometimes, it touches me in ways I have never before been touched."

Dean didn't rightly understand everything Castiel said. He swallowed as Cas touched his face and felt like the man's eyes were burning through him as he talked about beauty. He couldn't mean... but yes, his question was answered when Cas outright called him beautiful, which was all sorts of inaccurate, but that didn't stop the fluttering in Dean's belly. "I think you must be a poet or a priest, the way you string words together and for a moment, they almost seem to make perfect sense, and then they just leave questions again, or maybe you just thought you understood and never did." Smiling back, he added, "I've been called many things. Fucker. Bastard. Tight. Hot. But never beautiful. Not even on the outside," he said, not wanting to think of all the things he'd done in his life that many would condemn him for, the deaths of people he hadn't saved, or who he'd killed because of what was in them. 

Castiel chuckled lowly. "I am neither poet nor priest though I am...religious. I seek to know and understand God better, through His works, the beauty of a flower, the power of a storm, any place that I might find God, I will look. I see Him in you, in the kindness of your heart and the beauty of your soul. If no one else has ever seen it, then they did not truly see you. You are a mystery to me, and yet, it doesn't change that I know these things to be true."

"You believe in God and miracles and little angels?" Dean asked, wiggling his fingers like wings. "That's really sweet. Now how about you let me... touch you in ways I haven't, before?" His hand went to the controls. "Drop your seat back." He let his own fall back and watched Castiel.

"Yes, I believe in God and miracles and angels," Castiel said, "but my beliefs differ from many popular views." After hesitating a moment, Castiel did as Dean asked.

Rolling onto his side, Dean waited for Cas to do the same, then leaned in and started to kiss him. He gave Cas light, playful kisses, drawing away to look at him in between. Seeing something spark in the guy's eyes, Dean felt his heart knock against his chest. "I'm not the only one whose eyes light up, but I think I'm seeing something other than...joy...in yours," he teased, slanting his mouth over Castiel's again, this time delving his tongue inside and stroking it over Castiel's palate and sliding it against his tongue, tangling them together. 

Castiel followed Dean's lead, mimicking his actions, but unsure what to do when Dean's tongue was in his mouth. He chased Dean's tongue with his own but his inexperience was obvious. When Dean broke off to take a breath, Castiel stared into his eyes. "Am I...kissing...okay?"

"Hell yeah, very okay," Dean answered, "want more." It was unclear whether Dean was demanding more, or asking whether Castiel wanted more. In the space of a couple breaths, Dean rolled over, his upper body now sprawled over Castiel's. Sliding one hand under his jacket, Dean gripped a fistful of his shirt. "Want to get you all wrinkled, baby." Bringing his mouth down over Castiel's, he started to weave his tongue in and out, moving against him, touching him, practically making love to him.

Castiel wasn't certain what to make of Dean on top of him like this, nor of the feelings stirring inside him. He wasn't sure what to do and thought back to the porn he had watched. Wrapping an arm around Dean's back he held him close, his other hand going to the side of Dean's face. He felt his own heart pounding and felt his cock begin to stiffen. He rubbed back against Dean, again trying to mimic him, trying to give back what Dean was giving him.

They kissed like that for a long time, stopping only to take a breath or two. The groping and kissing intensified and their breaths became more labored. Dean broke the kiss and moved his mouth over Castiel's jaw, then feathered kisses down his throat, unknotting his tie with one hand and pulling it down so he could unbutton his shirt. When he slipped his hand inside, he felt Castiel tense a little. Reluctantly lifting up, he blew a hot breath. "Probably about all you can take right now, huh? Let's get back to the hotel," he suggested, dipping his head down to steal another kiss before he rolled back to his own seat and lay back for a moment.

Castiel lay there for a minute, dazed by the uproar of emotions his human body was in. His ethereal wings were partially extended and the undulating pressure Dean had given to his body had been likewise transferred to his wings. "That was... pleasant," Castiel finally managed to get out. He leaned forward just a little and stretched his wings out, causing a slight wind and barest whisper of the sound of ruffling feathers, and then pulled them back in, shifting and getting comfortable as he raised the seat back up. "Yes, the hotel; that would be good."

"Only pleasan--" Dean blinked and snapped his head toward Castiel. "Did you hear that?" Frowning, he looked around, behind, and in front of Castiel. "It sounded like shuffling cards or something."

"I think a bird flew overhead. Perhaps it was that," Castiel said, surprised Dean had heard his wings at all. He would have to be more careful. "Only what?"

"Nothing," he answered leaning forward and looking out the window, then shaking his head. "Just have to try harder, I guess." Starting the car, Dean looked over his shoulder and backed out, then made a turn onto the street. "Seatbelt," he reminded Cas as he buckled up before turning the radio on loud and hightailing it down the sometimes steep roads. "Love how your car hugs every curve," he said, grinning. A few times, he slowed down when he saw other vehicles, or passed them. "You've got to work her out once in a while."

Twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of the hotel and threw the door open. The valet ran over and, as soon as Dean got out, lowered the music. "Evening Mr. Novak, Mr..."

"Hendrix," Castiel supplied to the valet. Castiel grabbed the bag that held Dean's old clothes and watch and got out of the car. He admired Dean in the lights of the hotel, pleased how the suit fit him. Before the valet drove off, he spoke to the man. "Richard, correct?"

"Yes sir?"

"You've been valeting here for quite a while. You always do a good job. I have been enlightened to an oversight on my part." He pulled out his wallet and handed the valet four hundred dollars. "To help amend for my failure to 'tip' you in the past. It was never a reflection of my appreciation of your service. Would you please see the car is washed?"

The valet seemed a little stunned then broke out into a smile. "Yes sir!"

Guiding Dean inside, he saw Bernard was speaking with one of the waitresses. When Bernard saw him, he walked over. "Bernard, I have been informed I have made the error of not tipping appropriately. Would you please see any who have valeted for me, or tended to my needs are each given tips, somewhere between one hundred and four hundred, depending on the number of times they've served me? I have already given Richard," he gave a wave to the valet desk visible through the lobby door, "his long overdue tip. Please let them know I will be more diligent in recognizing their service in the future."

The surprise on the manager's face was fleeting, his eyes going briefly to Dean before returning to Castiel. "Of course Mr. Novak." Looking again at Dean, he nodded approvingly. "Most assuredly no 'room of shame' as you called it, with your new clothes. They suit you well."

"They should suit me, after hours of trying things on. I don't think I've ever been in any one store that long." Dean gave the man a nod, then put his hand behind Castiel's back. "Upstairs, or do you want something from the bar?"

"Upstairs," Castiel said, feeling much more comfortable with Dean's touches now. "I need to check my messages and email. If you would like to stretch your legs down here at the bar for a short while, feel free." 

"No, I'm fine," Dean said, walking with him to the elevator. Once they got in, Cas swiped the room key across the sensor and the penthouse level button lit up. 

Once in their suite, Dean took off his jacket and tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He was putting his new clothes away when he noticed a couple of things he hadn't selected for purchase. The leather jacket that he'd liked and which had suited him, and several casual tee shirts. Walking into the living room, he pointed toward the bedroom and opened his mouth to speak, but then frowned. Cas was sitting in a comfortable chair with his lap top on his lap and working away as if nothing was weird.

"Ah... Cas, why'd you move everything?" Dean asked, waving toward the furniture. Even some of the paintings on the wall seemed to have been swapped.

"I did not. Claire did," Castiel said simply.

"Who?" Frowning, Dean moved closer. "I didn't agree to any threesomes, just for the record."

Castiel looked up from the computer. "She won't be joining us. Likely, you won't ever see her."

"Okay." Dean went around the room moving stuff back to where they'd originally been, pushing a few things into place with more force than necessary. Occasionally, he looked over at Cas but the guy was so engrossed in his work that he never looked up. Taking the remote, Dean dropped down on the floor and turned the TV on. As he watched, he sometimes made a comment or asked a question, but the most he got was a grunt or a nod from Castiel. About an hour and a half later, he tried again. "It's after midnight," he said, and still, there was barely any reaction from Cas.

Getting on his hands and knees, Dean started to crawl toward Cas. "You know, too much work is bad for you? Think maybe I could get you interested in something else? A movie or..." when he reached him, Dean put his hands on each of Castiel's thighs, pushing the lap top to one side, and kneaded Cas' legs. "You know, anything else?" When he knew he had Castiel's attention, he rubbed his cheek across his thigh. "Maybe a little conversation?"

Castiel looked down at him and gave a small sigh. "Yes, of course. Let me finish this email. Choose a movie and make some popcorn for us. I will finish this and we can talk while we watch the movie."

"Okay, you take care of the email," Dean said, dropping his face down and kissing along Castiel's inner thigh and making some suggestive sounds. "Don't mind me."

Castiel's eyes widened and he froze. "I thought you wanted...uh, conversation." 

"I can do two things at once. How's that email coming?" He ran one hand up higher and rubbed his thumb gently back and forth over the outline of Castiel's shaft. "I'm sure it's very..." he licked his lips, "important. Go ahead and concentrate on that. Don't mind me," he whispered, kissing his way up the outside of Cas' thigh and rubbing his face into his side.

Castiel groaned softly at the feelings stirring inside him, as he felt his cock beginning to harden. His head fell back. "I...apparently...can't do two things...at once. Unghhh." His hand went to Dean's head and he combed through the silky strands of Dean's hair as heat inched through his veins. "Feels...good," he said, almost sounding surprised.  
"That's better than pleasant. I guess you like it hardcore," Dean chuckled at his own joke. "Keep typing," he suggested, "or...you know, move the lap top away." 

Castiel looked at his half-finished email. He quickly added 'Something came up. Will communicate later,' hit send, and closed the laptop, moving it to an end table. "What is hardcore?" Castiel asked, all his attention now focused on Dean.

"Porn. There's soft-core... and then there's hardcore. Try the adult channel, if you want to watch." Shifting so he was better situated between Cas' legs, Dean pulled the guy's shirt out of his pants. Eyes locked with Castiel's, he unbuttoned the shirt, from the bottom going up, his palms occasionally ghosting over warm, bare flesh. Leaning in, he kissed Cas low on his stomach, then started to lick a path up his chest.

"I have watched some pornographic movies. They lack story. I do not know if they were hardcore or soft-core." Castiel inhaled sharply as Dean's mouth worked its way up his body. "Does-Does one have better tales than the other?" Dean had said he wanted conversation but Castiel wasn't at all certain he would be able to maintain a coherent conversation if Dean kept doing the things he was doing.

"It's not about stories, it's about how they make you feel." Tonguing Cas' nipple and sucking on it until it tightened into a hard nub, Dean worked his way higher, kissing his way up Castiel's throat, then brushing his lips across Cas' mouth. His own stomach was pressed up hard against Cas, rubbing over his erection, teasing him and alternately giving him the pressure he needed. "Why don't you tell me about your favorite one, and maybe we can re-enact it," he whispered hotly in Cas' ear, tonguing it lightly.

Castiel was moaning under Dean's attentions, surprised by some of the sounds coming from his own throat. He tried to capture Dean's lips when they passed by but they moved right on over to his ear. "I-I don't have a favorite. Do you?" he asked finding his hands beginning to wander over Dean's back as his hips lifted, searching for more pressure to ease the ache between his legs.

"Yeah, I’ve got plenty." He kissed Cas hard, but tore his mouth away before the kiss got too heated. "But my faves won't help me find out what you like, what you want to do. You're so damned hard." Sliding his hand between their bodies, he squeezed Cas, "Yeah... damned hard. What do you want to happen? You want to be on top of me, under me? You want my mouth on you here," he brushed his mouth over Cas', "here," sucked on his throat, "or here?" This time he squeezed him again. 

Castiel groaned a complaint when Dean stopped kissing him, then gave another when Dean squeezed him. "I don't...I don't know." He looked into Dean's lust blown pupils. "I want you to do for me what you would like for me to do for you. Teach me what it is like to make love."

"Have sex. We're having sex." Meeting Castiel's gaze, he asked, "You really don't remember ever doing this before? With anyone? Women, men?"

"No. And I wish to learn how to make love, not have sex...though I suppose I should learn both to fully understand. Can you show me the difference?" Castiel asked, his blue eyes piercing as he gazed at Dean and continued to caress his body.

"No. I can't show you, but I can tell you." Dean looked down for a moment, then back up. "Sex is about this." Squeezing and rubbing Cas' erection, he worked him up, kissing his throat and his chest, nipping him lightly and stopping only when Cas started to thrust his hips. "You burn for it, want it, want to be touched, to be satisfied. Sometimes it doesn't matter with who, it just... you just have to have it. Love... making love, it's not just your body, it's this too," he put his hand on Castiel's heart, "an emotional connection. It's feelings for a person, and those feelings don't just go away when the sex stops. When you buy it, it's always just sex. Doesn't make it bad or worse, just different. I swear, you will like having sex with me."

"Will you like having sex with me?" Castiel asked, his voice almost innocent as he stroked Dean's cheek with the back of his fingers.

"It matters to you?"

"Of course."

Dean cocked his head to the side.

"If you do not want to have sex with me, you don't have to. The arrangement doesn't change. You will go with me to the social events I am supposed to attend. You can drive me places." Castiel fell silent a moment and glancing away from Dean's eyes, said softly, "...Though I might like more kissing like we did at the overlook. If that would be acceptable. I am sure with more practice I can improve and you will enjoy my kisses as I enjoy yours." He hesitantly returned his gaze to meet Dean's. 

"You're a strange man. You know, I got guys who pay a hundred bucks and don't give a shit if it hurts or feels decent. You're paying a year's salary and giving me an out. Sometimes you make me think I'm imagining all this. That you don't exist. That you're just a really good dream." He nodded. "But yeah, I'd like to have sex with you even if it wasn't an arrangement. You made me real nervous at La Brasserie. It's not something that happens to me often, not anymore, not since I... you know, got into the business." He started to lean in to kiss him, but was surprised when Castiel pulled back, his eyes demanding a clearer answer. "What? Yes, I do enjoy kissing you, touching you. Let it happen."

"I am not sure what it is I am supposed to let happen," Castiel said. "But I will try." He pulled Dean down on top of him, into his arms, and began kissing him the way Dean had kissed him before.

"Mmmph." The unexpected aggression sent a thrill through Dean. Opening his mouth, he accepted Castiel's tongue, dueling with it. Very quickly, they were both groping each other. From the way Cas was writhing under him, Dean sensed the guy was getting frustrated. "Let's move to the couch," he said, "then I can touch you everywhere." Standing, he pulled Castiel up but didn't allow too much space between them. He kissed him lightly and took a step back, and gave him another kiss, teasing, making Cas follow him, loving how those often cool eyes held so much heat in them now.

Castiel followed Dean two, three, four steps, then suddenly closed the distance and pulled Dean up against him. He kissed him hard, passionately, as if he wanted to steal Dean's breath away. He finally gave Dean a chance to catch his breath and eased his hold as if to say Dean could tease him once again.

Chest lifting and dropping with every heavy breath, Dean stared at Cas. "You're a quick study. Fuck... keep kissing like that and I might end up paying you." Reaching out, he started to push Cas' jacket off, then tossed it onto the chair. "Remember what I promised to do with your nice crisp shirt?" Grabbing handfuls of it in his fists, he walked backwards, tugging Cas with him, and then swinging him around when they were at the couch so the couch hit the back of Castiel's legs.

Spreading Cas' shirt, Dean dipped his head and started to leave hot trails of kisses down his throat and chest, sometimes sucking a little flesh into his mouth. He loved how Cas reacted, how his muscles tightened under his touch, how his body shuddered. He started to sink down on his knees, sucking a light mark into Cas' belly and then soothing it with his tongue. Hands splayed wide, he ran them up and down Cas' stomach, his thumbs dipping under the waistband of his pants. "Usually people say 'oh God, oh yeah... fuck yeah...' about now," he said, looking up.

"I would not take my Father's name in vain and I do not use vulgar language," Castiel said, his chest nearly heaving, "but please, continue, I am...yes, if I cursed, it would be because you stopped." Gripping Dean's shoulder, Castiel added, "Please, don't stop again."

"You might have to remind me," Dean answered, his blood surging to his cock. The thought of having Castiel desperate and out of control, showing more of that aggressive side of him that he seemed to hide so well, excited him, had him wanting it so bad he was tempted to go faster.

Gripping Cas' belt, he pushed it out of the loop, then tugged, hard enough to make the guy's entire body move under the force of his motions. Pulling the belt off, he dropped it to the ground and started to undo Cas' pants. The sound of the zipper cut through the silence in the room. Watching Cas' throat convulse, Dean slowly pulled his trousers part way down and kissed his cock over his shorts. At first he brushed his mouth over it too lightly, tracing it, pressing it against his thigh. Then he angled his mouth and sucked on it, moaning as he felt Cas thicken. 

"Nghhh, Dean," Castiel moaned, having never felt anything like what was twisting inside him now. He knew the joys of Heaven, but also knew the horrors of the battlefield. Devotion, belief, faith, obedience, all of these were part of his existence, but this was a torrent of fire, burning through him like Grace did when he smote evil. He wondered if this was lust, but knew lust was considered a sin because it consumed people in such a way others were placed before God, and given a choice, if he were called, he would return instantly to Heaven in the service of his Father. This, he decided, was desire. Desire to experience these feelings humans experienced, desire to find pleasure and comfort with another, desire to please Dean and make Dean feel as Dean was making him feel. For once, his feelings of loneliness were gone. "More..." Castiel begged. 

When the underwear was wet with his saliva, Dean tugged it down, one side at a time, then raked it and the trousers all the way down Cas' body so they pooled at his ankles. "Oh yeah, give you more," he said, closing his hand around the base of Castiel's thick hard cock, leaning in and licking him from base to tip. The increased pressure of Castiel's fingers digging into his shoulder encouraged him to give Cas more, to lick harder, dragging the flat of his tongue over his shaft, painting every inch of it. Every once in a while he teased, taking a little of Cas' swollen tip into his mouth and sucking lightly, but moving on.

"This is...you are...amazing," Castiel said, groaning as Dean worked on him. "Never have I felt such things. This is only sex, then love must be...like a grain of Heaven. Show me more, Dean, give me more," he nearly demanded, feeling the fires burn hotter in him, not knowing how to quench them, and begging Dean to do so. 

"Mmhmm... I am," Dean said, his mouth still sliding against Cas' now rock hard flesh. He licked around his crown, then paid attention to his slit, tongue fucking it until he felt Cas' knees knock against him. Looking up again, he very deliberately took Cas' cock inside his mouth, sheathing it one inch at a time until it bottomed out at the back of his throat. Hollowing out his cheeks, he slowly pulled all the way off. "Want to fuck my mouth?" he asked, wanting to see how far he could provoke this man who insisted on talking about God and Heaven in the middle of sex, and not in the usual way.

Castiel had watched his cock disappear into Dean's mouth, felt the wet heat surround his desperate need and then when Dean sucked on his cock, he thought he might well collapse into a blathering heap. "F-Fuck your mouth?" Castiel said, his own mouth growing dry. "Is-is that pleasurable for you as well?"

"Oh yeah." The expletive echoed in Dean's mind, over and over. "Do it. Fuck my mouth," he said in a husky tone, licking his mouth and guiding Cas' cock closer.

Not entirely certain how he was supposed to do it, he slowly slid his cock into Dean's mouth, moaning at the feel as Dean's tongue seemed to dance over his hard cock. It took only a couple times of Dean bobbing his head, giving him a rhythm and he found his hips knew what to do. His wings stretched up and out as he thrust faster and harder into Dean's mouth, obscene sounds escaping him, practically echoing in the room.

Instinctively, Dean gripped Castiel's hip to make sure he didn't go too far. His time on the streets had taught him to be careful, to protect himself. With his other hand though, he stroked and caressed Castiel, moving it up and down his side and down over the curve of his firm ass, pulling him close at times. As he felt Cas' thrusts get more jerky, he started to hum around his cock, moving his mouth up and down his shaft faster and harder. A soft, rippling sound broke his concentration. He might have stopped, but Cas' hand slipped to the back of his head, telling him in no uncertain terms what the guy needed.

Hollowing out his cheeks, Dean sucked harder, giving Cas everything he had. Was it enjoyable for him? Oh yeah, he was getting exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he wanted... Cas, uncontrolled and lost in what they were doing. Sliding a hand between Cas' legs, Dean started to play with and squeeze his balls, knowing from how tightly stretched the skin was that Cas was close, very close.

If the vibrations in Dean's throat weren't his undoing, when Dean squeezed his balls, there was no holding back. Castiel cried out as he felt something in him let loose, as he felt his balls tighten in a way he had never felt before. The lights in the room flickered, every one of the light bulbs suddenly exploding into showers of sparks as Castiel came down Dean's throat hard. He cried out loudly, his wings stretching and arching out, their shadowy form hinted at in the cascade of pulsing lights in the room. 

Dean didn't often swallow, but he'd decided he would for Castiel, and he did, swallowing down every drop of cum that rushed into his mouth. He would have milked Cas, taken his time before pulling off, but the electrical issues had him releasing Cas' cock. "Sit down. Put your clothes on, fast," he said, practically shoving Cas onto the sofa. "Something is in here, with us." The light from the now snowy TV, and from the balcony, was enough to see by. 

Tense, Dean moved to the bedroom, tried the lights and found they went on. Immediately, he grabbed a hand gun from the bag at the bottom of the closet. He had a small silver knife on him too when he started a walk through of the suite, his gaze sweeping over every corner. He couldn't smell any sulfur or see anything out of place, but all the light bulbs going out at the same time couldn't be good. A quick check out the balcony windows showed that the street lights were intact, and so were the lights in the surrounding buildings. "The hell?" 

Circling around and finishing checking the bathroom, he tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants at his back and returned to the living room. "Did you see anything?"

"Only blinding white light as I ejaculated," Castiel said, still sounding a bit dazed. "This has happened before, the power surge." He didn't add that it had happened before when he had lost control of his emotions for whatever reason and that he was the cause. He tilted his head and studied Dean as Dean paced restlessly, admiring how gracefully he moved. "There is nothing here. Only us. Why would you think something was here?" He finally stood and pulled his pants up, struggling to get his wings pulled back in, making certain to do it slowly and silently. He would love to do nothing more than take flight, reveling in how he felt, how pleasure still vibrated in every part of his human body.

"Happened before? Just like this? Then nothing?" Running his hand over his face, Dean continued to pace. "Then maybe you should tell Mr. Thompson about the crappy wiring." He wasn't convinced, and yet he didn't feel anything or see anything. Resisting the urge to go down to his car and grab an EMF meter, he told himself he'd do it in the morning. 

"Yes. Just like this. The staff replaced the light bulbs and an electrician was sent in. There was an inexplicable power surge and the electrician could find nothing. I'll call the front desk for new light bulbs. What would you expect to happen after such an event?" he asked. He walked over to the phone. "Would you like anything sent up? Food, wine?"

"Nah, I'm fine." As the minutes ticked by and nothing happened, Dean stopped pacing and just watched Castiel make his call. Hearing him say he'd hold, he walked up behind Cas and closed his arms around him, pressing against him and caressing his chest. "Sorry. I over-reacted. Thought I heard something," he said, kissing Cas' neck. 

"Better to always be alert. It was quite a show," Castiel said, closing his eyes as he felt Dean's hand on his chest and pressing against his back. His wings were pulled in but still seemed sensitive. Dean's kiss to his neck and the way Dean rubbed his chest against his shadow-wings made his breath catch. If his wings were spread, he knew his reaction would have been much stronger.

"Pretty damned explosive," Dean said, his voice lilting slightly. When the hotel staff got back on the phone and started getting details about the electrical problem, Dean touched and groped and kissed Cas in a concerted effort to distract him. It was as if he was learning Cas' body, all the secret places that made the guy tense or shudder. His hand and mouth kept returning to Castiel's shoulder blades as often as his hand strayed to the guy's nipples. 

As Castiel talked with the staff, his voice faded occasionally as something Dean did made him lose his train of thought. Dean seemed obsessed with finding the spot on his back he had reacted to in the clothing store. It would have amused Castiel if not for the fact Dean had caused him to react once, and his wings were most definitely reacting to his touches in ways they never had when he was in his angelic form. He finally got off the phone with the front desk and turned to Dean. "You are like a child, aren't you? Or are you just jealous of anyone else getting my attention." He reached out and began to unbutton Dean's shirt.

Dean's gaze dropped to Castiel's long fingers working on his buttons, then raised back up. "Maybe." At the brush of Castiel's warm hand against his skin, he drew in a sharp breath. "You know we're about to have company, right?" 

"I'm merely helping you out of your shirt. Besides, I'm not known for having guests and apparently everyone is quite aware of why you are here. So what difference does it make?" Castiel rolled down each of Dean's sleeves, then slowly pulled the shirt tails from Dean's pants, pulling out just a little at a time. Leaning in, he licked a path up from Dean's navel to the notch of his collar bones. Pulling open the shirt a bit more he finished pulling the right side free of Dean's pants and placed his mouth over Dean's nipple, sucking on it experimentally before running his tongue around and around it. 

Blowing out a hot breath, Dean bowed his head, nuzzling Cas' neck. "Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked a little smugly, but lost his smile when Cas sucked harder. "Fu..." 

Reaching down, Castiel tentatively rubbed his hand over Dean's groin, finding his cock and giving it a couple light strokes. He reached back up and began working the other side of Dean's shirt off his shoulder, tugging it off him. One hand caressed Dean's side and back while the other went to Dean's other nipple and began toying with it.

A low groan broke from the back of Dean's throat. He thrust his hips forward, chasing Castiel's hand and meeting air. Biting down on yet another curse, he put his hands on Castiel's hips, slowly drawing him closer, biting his lip when he was able to rub his erection against Cas. "So good..."

Castiel began slowly turning Dean and walking him toward the bedroom. "More room on a bed," Castiel murmured as he kissed his way up to Dean's lips but his one hand stayed at Dean's nipple, occasionally drifting down to Dean's  
waist and sometimes over the curve of Dean's ass before working back to Dean's chest.

Castiel heard the ding of the elevator. "Company," he said, taking Dean's hand and leading him into the bedroom and shutting the door. Grabbing hold of Dean's waistband he pulled him close and then began undoing Dean's belt.

"Mr. Novak? Hello?"

"Jealous... yeah," leaning in, Dean slanted his mouth across Castiel's and demanded a kiss, making it impossible for the guy to answer. Winding his arms around Cas' shoulders, he cupped the back of his head and deepened the kiss, exploring every corner of Cas' silky hot mouth, then retracting his tongue and enticing Cas to follow.  
"Mr. Novak?" There was a light knock on the bedroom door.

Castiel gave a soft groan as he licked the inside of Dean's lips. He broke off the kiss but his gaze never left Dean's. "Yes. Just the lights in the main room. Thank you," he said then refocused his gaze on Dean's lips. He swept in and welded his mouth over Dean's. His hand going to Dean's ass, he pulled Dean up against him, their groins meeting. The fire seemed to be building inside Castiel once more. He cautioned himself not to lose control again or he'd blow out all the lights in the bedroom and bathroom, and he didn't think Dean would accept his explanation as readily a second time, especially if it coincided with the culmination of pleasure and ejaculation again. 

Light headed. Mouth burning. Body burning for more, Dean completely forgot this was a job, that Castiel was a job. No one ever paid him to receive pleasure, and that was exactly what was happening here. He returned the favor, kissing Castiel back with everything he had, moving against him, sliding his leg between the guy's and moaning as he felt how hard Castiel was already. Breaking the kiss, he pulled away, his hand trailing down Cas' arms to his hands. Walking backwards, he pulled Cas along, then dropped down on the bed and lay back, slowly crawling up the bed on his elbows. His legs wide open in invitation, he looked up and licked his lips.

Kneeling on the bed Castiel crawled forward. Just as Dean had done, he rubbed his cheek along Dean's thigh, finding the hardened member underneath the cloth. He ran his open mouth along it, tracing it out, sucking on its tip through the fabric, and generally just torturing Dean with his attention to it.

Raising his hips up, Dean groaned, "Oh God... take my pants off."

The sound of shattering glass was quickly followed by a, "Sorry, Mr. Novak. Just knocked... Um...I'll get it cleaned up..." 

"Cas!" Frustrated, Dean undid the button of his jeans and started to tug down the zipper.

Castiel broke into a grin. "Patience isn't your strongest trait, is it?" he asked and knocked Dean's hands away. He slid the zipper down then gripped either side of Dean's pants and slowly pulled the fabric down. Dean's undershorts were tented by his erection and Castiel chuckled. "Definitely have your attention," he said and pulled off Dean's underwear. Licking his lips, he spread Dean's legs and began kisses along Dean's inner thigh, working his way closer and closer to Dean's cock until, when he reached it, he once again emulated Dean and licked it from balls to tip. Seeing the beads of cum, he flicked his tongue out and sampled it. "Amazing to think these are the seeds of life," he whispered.

Dean stopped mid-groan to give Cas a startled look. "Can we not use the word seeds?" he panted out his breaths and reached down to run his fingers through Cas' soft hair. "Think that went out a couple centuries ago," he managed. "Lick me, suck me... yeah... good words," he said, lifting his hips and pushing Cas' head down.

"It doesn't change what they are. A precious gift to those who wish to procreate, and a joyful ...release for those just wishing to have sex or make love." 

Accepting Dean's urgings Castiel began to focus his attention on Dean's groin, blowing across it, licking along his cock, sucking on it, toying with his balls with his mouth, listening closely to see what seemed to elicit the most pleasurable sounds from Dean. Once he felt like he had catalogued them appropriately, he began to repeat them, using only the top few on the list until Dean was writhing under him. "Would you like to...fuck...my mouth now?" he asked, looking up from between Dean's legs.

"Fuck you... your mouth?" He was so worked up, he could barely think. All he knew was his cock was thick and hard, and he was desperate for more. "Hell yeah, I'm so hot for your mouth, want it," he said, lifting his legs and hooking his knees over Cas' shoulders. Taking Castiel's hand, he guided it to his cock now pressing down against his belly. Sliding their joined hands over his shaft, he gave a throaty moan, his concentration breaking slightly at the sound of something falling in the living room. His eyes slid closed as their hands glided over his wet cock and he imagined being in Cas' mouth. "You're... you're killing me here."

"I thought the intent was to give pleasure," Castiel said, but his sparkling eyes made it plain he was teasing, that he understood exactly what Dean meant. Taking hold of Dean's cock, he guided it to his mouth and sucked it in. As an angel he had no gag reflex, so he took it in and swallowed it down until his lips were wrapped around the base of Dean's solid cock. Recalling how Dean had bobbed up and down and played with his balls, he began the same movements, experimenting with when to suck and how to lick or wrap his tongue around Dean's cock to give Dean the most pleasure.

"Ngh..." Before Dean could warn Cas, he found his cock sheathed snuggly in the wet heat of Castiel's mouth. His fingers curled into the bedding and soft sounds started to break from him as Cas sucked and licked his cock, working him up. Dean tried desperately not to demand more, not to go faster or harder, to let Castiel experiment and discover the things that drove Dean crazy. But the guy was a damned quick learner and Dean found himself using his legs to drag Cas closer and lifting his hips to fuck his mouth. "Yeah... oh yeah," he wrapped his fingers around Cas' arm, his fingers digging into his flesh each time Dean bucked up. "More...oh God more," he urged, thrashing and tugging on Cas as he reached the end of his tether. 

Wanting to please Dean, Castiel gave Dean exactly what he asked for. He sucked a little harder, bobbed a little faster, unsure how much Dean could take. He squeezed Dean's balls gently, his free hand reaching up to Dean's nipple to tease it. He wasn't sure what else he could offer Dean in pleasure. He could, he supposed, 'help' when Dean started to release, using his angelic powers to give Dean more pleasure than possible, but decided he shouldn't. Besides, he wanted to see what he himself could bring Dean to, if he could give Dean the same feelings Dean had evoked in him.

White hot heat lanced through Dean. Gasping for air, he bucked his hips a few more times, then pressed his head back against the pillow as he shouted out his release. He came thick and hard, deep in Cas' mouth, groaning in pleasure-pain. "Oh. God. Cas. Oh my fucking God." Slowly, the tension in his body eased and he could enjoy Cas' caresses. Catching his hand, he pulled it up to his mouth and kissed his palm. He'd never met a man with softer hands, though they were strong. Parting his lips, he sucked lengthwise on Castiel's middle finger, then took it in his mouth. Wrapping his lips tight around it, he allowed it to slide in and out of his mouth, the way his cock had in Castiel's, until he gave a last, satisfied moan and dropped Cas' hand. "Come down here, so I can kiss you," he said, sliding his legs off Cas' shoulders and letting them sink heavily onto the bed.

Getting up off the bed, Castiel undid his pants and let them fall away to the floor, then climbed onto the bed, on top of Dean. "I understand now why you say you enjoy me...thrusting...into your mouth. It isn't pleasure of a sexual sort, it's pleasure knowing you are giving your all and giving such pleasure to your companion. In some ways, it is a selfless act though there is gratification from it." He stroked Dean's forehead, brushing off his sweaty locks. "You think I talk too much when I should be kissing you."

"Talk. Analyze. Break stuff down, yeah, let's have a little less conversation," he answered lifting his head and pulling Cas down. Just as their lips touched, Dean reversed their positions and whispered, "You're hard again," before lowering his mouth over Castiel's. Pushing his tongue past innocent lips, Dean tasted him all over again, his mouth sliding back and forth across Castiel's. So good, it was so damned good. Alarm bells rang in the back of his head, reminding him this was a job, that enjoying himself this much was not part of the deal. It was probably a downright stupid thing to do, and yet he ignored everything but how this man made him feel. He wanted, needed to give back too. He started to fuck against him, moaning as he rubbed against Castiel's hard flesh trapped between them. He was relentless and deliberate in his motions, determined to get Cas off one more time.

The pressure against his hard cock--he hadn't even realized, not really, that he had regained his erection--brought groans of pleasure out of him. His wings demanded freedom and he felt them slowly spread beneath him, then stretch out and curl up and away from the bed almost as if to embrace Dean the way his arms were. He kissed Dean back with as much zeal as Dean kissed him, feeling the heat spiral through him again. Forcibly reining in his powers, he kept them under tight control as he let Dean carry him over the edge. As he cried out, as he released and felt heat spread between them, the lights gave the barest of flickers. He continued to kiss Dean and did allow his wings to curl around them, knowing that Dean wouldn't be able to feel them except as perhaps a feeling of security or protection.

"That's it... that's it," Dean whispered between kisses, smiling slightly as he felt Castiel hold him tighter. "I'm not going anywhere," he reassured. "Staying right here, right here," he kissed him again, then dropped his head and kissed Cas' chest. "I'll... I'll clean us up in a bit. Sleep if you want," he said, feeling strangely lethargic. 

"Yes, I want you to stay," Castiel said, kissing the top of Dean's head. "Sleep," he whispered.

He lay there for awhile listening as Dean's breathing leveled out and then wrapped his wings around Dean a bit tighter. He had only wanted to help Dean get a new job. He hadn't expected...this. He wasn't even sure what 'this' was...but he liked it


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel stayed with Dean for a few hours, watching him sleep, listening to him breathe, soothing away any bad dreams that even tried to take hold. Finally he carefully slid out from beneath Dean and with a thought, the dried cum disappeared and he was dressed. It was still dark out and he took to the skies, invisible to those below now as he flew among the clouds. It felt like a new world.

He had much to contemplate, all these strange emotions and feelings. Did they bring him closer to God? Put God further out of his reach? He wasn't certain, but he had years to sort it out, years to experience it again and again until he had determined if this was a good or ill thing for an angel to know. After an hour or so of stretching his wings, he returned to the penthouse, saw that Claire had been busy again moving things about, and that Dean was still soundly sleeping.

He changed into different clothes and turned off the alarm so Dean could sleep in, then sat down with his laptop and got back to work, finishing up the business he had been working on when Dean had interrupted him the night before. Calling down to the desk, he told them to delay breakfast until he called for it. He didn't want the elevator waking Dean. The man was bone tired, he could sense it, and he wanted to let Dean sleep as long as possible. Food was irrelevant to Castiel. He only ate and pretended to sleep to keep up appearances.

* * *

The morning light woke Dean. Too comfortable to move, he buried his face into the pillow. His alarm would ring at any moment. Only it didn't and he shot out of bed, afraid he might have slept right through it. That's when everything that had happened hit him. He wasn't home with Sam. It wasn't time to go in to work, he was working. 

His gaze went back to the bed. That was strange, not only was Castiel gone, but he didn't see any signs that he'd slept next to him. Only the pillow on Dean's side had indentations and the covers on the other side of the bed were relatively smooth and untouched. Okay, maybe he couldn't put it past Cas to be such a neat freak that he'd fix one side of the bed.   
Heading for the door, he opened it up a crack and saw Cas already in a suit and working away on his computer. When the guy didn't look up, he closed the door and headed for the bathroom.

Fifteen minute later, he was showered and had put on the trousers of the suit they'd bought yesterday, as well as a fresh shirt. The jacket he'd put on later, and though he pulled a tie around the back of his neck, he left it loose and untied for now. Barefoot, he padded into the living room. "Morning," he said, standing over Cas for a moment before bending over and kissing him lightly. "Am I interrupting something?" 

"Just regular work. I've been looking at a small company that deals in unique items, both the manufacturing of and acquisition of. It could be turned into a much larger and profitable business if they'd expand their network and focus purely on acquisition of antiquities. Right now antiquities is big business and of great interest to the overly wealthy. 'The Roadhouse Marketplace' would need a more enticing name as well. While the company itself is not on the public sales list, the land they lease is for sale, as is the primary transportation company they use. If I acquire those, it will give me leverage to offer the owner a deal that she will be forced into accepting. Why don't you call the front desk and order breakfast for us?" 

"The Roadhouse," Dean cocked his head. Could he really mean Ellen Harvelle? "I don't think they only sell to rich people, I've bought some..." Feeling the intensity of Castiel's gaze on him, the lie did not come as easily to Dean and he stumbled over his words before clearing his throat. "...interesting knives and things, small items that wouldn't break the bank. So why do you want the company?" He backed away and leaned against the table, one hand on the phone but not making a move to call just yet.

"As I said, they specialize in unusual and unique items. Some of those items should be ...preserved for future generations," Castiel said, but was still trying to fathom that Dean knew of the store. "The less historically valuable ones can be sold for better profit than what Mrs. Harvelle seems to bring in. She is very skilled in the acquisition of things, but less so in the profitable side of selling such items. The company apparently has contacts all over the world, unique contacts that are invaluable in that type of business. More importantly, the contacts and her company have agreements with numerous countries for the export of said antiquities and items. In some cases, she is the only company to have such agreements. For the contacts and agreements alone, the company is invaluable. I can ensure she lives comfortably the rest of her life while the acquisition of that company will give my company leverage like it’s never had before," he said. "Of course the manufacturing portion of her company will be sold off or simply shut down. Likely shut down as it makes little profit from what I can tell."

"I see," Dean said, tightly. "What if she says 'no?’" He remembered only too well how many times he'd said no, and yet Castiel had found 'his price.'

"I'm certain an agreement can be reached." Castiel looked up at him, tilting his head. "You are bothered by this news? Why?"

"I'm not. What do you want me to order?" 

"Anything you'd like," he said, obviously seeing through Dean's lie but he didn't seem inclined to pursue it. "Be certain to include coffee and orange juice. I'll take whatever sounds good to you for breakfast."

"Alright." Turning away, Dean called reception and then was put through to the restaurant. "Coffee, orange juice, eggs over easy, hashbrowns, sausages and bacon. And toast, for two," he said, agreeing when the order was repeated. When he set the phone down, he looked over at Castiel again, then frowned. "She was here again, wasn't she? Claire. You let her in at the crack of dawn?" Immediately, he started putting the furniture back where it belonged, though why it should bother him, he had no idea.

"Yes, Claire was here. She comes and goes as she pleases. I didn't see her. She came while we were sleeping. Did you deal directly with Mrs. Harvelle, or one of her distributors?"

"Both. Why?" Dean's gaze swung back to Cas and held more than a little suspicion. He told himself maybe he should keep his mouth shut or whatever he said would certainly only help the shark-like businessman.

"I was wondering if you could give me any insight into the woman's mind, the best way to approach her, what her concerns were, such as price or customer satisfaction. Did she seem happy and at ease, or stressed and tired?" he asked. 

"I think you should leave her alone. She's a nice lady but if you piss her off, she will kick your ass." Pressing his lips into a flat line, he crossed the room to put back a painting that had been taken down and left leaning against a piece of furniture.

"Uh-huh," Castiel said, watching Dean. "And just how well do you know her?"

"Jealous?" He was trying to say as little as possible.

Castiel smiled and gave a small chuckle. "Maybe. So it's safe to assume you won't speak to her on my behalf."

"And tell her what, Cas? To sell you a business she and her husband worked damned hard on all their lives, just so you can break up the most important part of it? Yeah it's safe to assume that, but maybe you should try to see something other than dollars and cents." Feeling like he might have overstepped and not wanting to anger Cas, he dragged his gaze away and muttered, "Sorry I didn't mean anything by that. You do what you have to do."

"I can't see anything unless someone shows me," Castiel said, surprised by Dean's answer. "I see the information my people put in front of me. It's numbers, statistics, profit margins, capital gains, business advantages and disadvantages. People don't generally come into it. Obviously you know these people at this company. Obviously, this might be a time people should come into it. So, show me. Tell me. Explain to me. Otherwise, dollars and cents are all I will see." 

"The hell you can't. You're human. Not some... some robot. You have feelings. You live in this world. You know not everything is about money, you have to. Or you wouldn't have bothered chasing me down after what happened at the restaurant." Of course, even if he wanted to, Dean couldn't fully believe it had one hundred percent been an altruistic thing that Castiel did. There was a hook, there was always a hook. Maybe he wasn't used to being told 'no,' or maybe he'd wanted Dean that much. Whatever it was, it wasn't just to help Dean, not that Dean would have accepted the guy's charity anyway.

Castiel looked away from Dean for a long time, staring at one of the paintings. "I remember nothing of James Novak's life. As far as I am concerned, my life began five years ago. The first few years I spent learning to run a multi-billion dollar business. I have been guided by my financial assistants. I have spent my waking hours doing business and learning how to do it better. I watch people, but I am not someone who has ever been good at socializing. I sometimes think I am...inept...at being a human. But I am trying to learn and understand. You have spent an entire day with me. Can you deny I am different from most people you have met?"

"You wouldn't believe the kind of people I've met. At least you don't have horns." Dean ran his hand down his face. "You could be trying to suck my mind dry."

"No, I do not have horns. And why would I want to suck your mind dry? You have much more interesting things I would rather suck dry."

"Maybe you should put your money where your mouth is." Sauntering over, Dean leaned down and gave him a lingering kiss. Still in Castiel's space, he stroked his cheek. "You know, if you woke up early, you could have gotten me up. I'm the entertainment, anytime you need it," he said, letting his hand drop down Cas' body. 

Castiel smiled against Dean's lips. He couldn't deny he enjoyed kissing. "You were tired. It did you good to sleep in with no worries or concerns for a few hours. I consider you company, not entertainment." He caught Dean's hand and gave it a light kiss on the palm. "I don't need much sleep usually. After we eat breakfast I have some business meetings to attend. I won't be back until probably four, and tonight there is a social function for us to attend." Castiel reached into his pocket and pulled out a check. "Here is your check for today. After breakfast, you're free to do as you please, but be back here no later than three, so you've time to shower and change and clean up for the dinner party. Your new clothes should be delivered by then. They will need your suit from yesterday to make final adjustments on it. If you need me for any reason," he pulled out a business card and placed it in Dean's hand. "Just call."

Company didn't get a check and then get told where and when to be ready, but it was kind of Castiel to put it that way. It was a far cry from Dean's other customers who would rub in the fact that they'd bought him. "Thanks," he took the check and card and cocked his head. "You're not going to have breakfast? It should be here soon."

"Yes, I said after we eat breakfast, I'd leave." Castiel studied him a moment then asked, "Would you like to drive me to my first meeting and borrow the car for the day? I'll give you money to have it valet-parked, of course. You look...good...in the car." He shut his laptop and set it aside, pulling Dean down so he could kiss him. After an intense kiss he released Dean. "I like your company. It is nice to have someone to talk to that doesn't judge me by who I used to be."

By the time Dean straightened, he was quite breathless. "Sure, I can drive you over and then pick you up. Ah... you know, what you might need is a whole new group of friends. And I'm not talking about the people you pay, your accountants and finance people or whatever." Course the instant the words left his mouth, Dean realized they could apply just as well to himself. Well, it was the truth. This man deserved to be surrounded by people who liked him for himself.

"You don't need to pick me up. I'll be going different places and it's hard telling when exactly we'll be done. I can get a ride with any number of business associates." Castiel shook his head. "I told you, I don't socialize readily. I have no friends. I have those I trust to counsel me, but," he shrugged, "when you are rich, most people only have one interest. They want your friendship so they can gain access to your wealth. I don't mind giving presents to people or helping people, but I don't like a false relationship used as a means to take advantage of me. Those who knew me from before, a lot of them seem to be much less interested in me since the accident. Few made the effort to learn about me, Castiel. I suppose I don't know how to make friends."

"Maybe they're just mourning their friend. If Sam forgot--" He looked away. "Losing shared history and starting all over with someone is hard."

A soft ‘ding’ announced the elevator, then the doors opened and a table was rolled in. "Good morning Mr. Novak, would you like to eat on the balcony?"

Dean jumped in with a "Yes," so the waiter rolled the table outside, opened up the side leaves and straightened the white tablecloth.

"Tip," Dean mouthed to Cas, before walking outside in time to see the guy pouring the coffee. "Just in time, I was dying for it."

Castiel wondered who 'Sam' was. Perhaps Dean had a permanent lover. That bothered him just a little though he wasn't certain why. Pulling out his wallet he extracted a twenty. He had no idea how much he should be offering in tips other than the twenty percent to waiters at a restaurant. He went out to the balcony and slipped into the chair. The waiter distributed the plates, lifting off the covers and poured the juice and coffee. He set silverware and salt and pepper and such in the center of the table.

"Will there be anything else?" the man asked Castiel.

Castiel handed him the twenty. "This looks fine. Thank you. Dean? Is everything to your satisfaction?"

The man looked a little stunned at having received a tip from Castiel.

"Yeah, we need to get you some ten dollar bills." Dean chuckled at the expected dirty look from the waiter who gave a curt bow and left them. "You don't have to go from no-tipping to extreme tipping."

"I have no idea what is appropriate as a tip. Twenty dollars is extreme? Yes, I am nearly out of twenties. I've only a few fifties and hundreds left in my wallet." Castiel sipped the hot coffee, noticing Dean liked his black. After sampling it he added some fresh cream to it. "How much would you have tipped him?" he asked, sprinkling salt over his meal. Just as he didn't need to sleep, he didn't need to eat or drink, but people questioned him if he didn't, so he did when he had to.

Castiel heard furniture being moved in the other room. "Do not hide my laptop again, Claire!" Castiel called back into the room. "I need it today."

Dean's eyes snapped to Castiel's as he pushed back his chair and walked inside. "Sonovabitch!" Seeing everything had been moved around again, he practically raced to the elevator, but it was already gone. This time, he didn't bother to put stuff back, but walked out to the balcony and sat down again. 

"Can't believe you put up with it," he said tightly, but once he started stuffing his mouth, he seemed to forget about Claire. "It's a nice day, too bad you're wasting it in some dark, boring office, talking numbers and using all your business 'buzz words,'" he said, making quote marks with his fingers. 

"It would be rather ridiculous to fly all the way out here and then not attend the meetings which brought me here in the first place," he responded, eating much more slowly than Dean. He glanced out over the city. "It is a nice day. It should be a nice evening as well and part of tonight's party is outside so I will get to enjoy some of it. Is Sam your boyfriend?" Castiel asked without missing a beat.

Almost choking on toast and eggs, Dean reached for the juice... Castiel's juice, and took a few big gulps. Blinking away the tears, he found Cas' steady gaze on him. "Sorry. 'Bout your drink. At least you know where my mouth's been," he joked. Still, Cas was watching him and waiting for an answer. 

"Sam's my business. Not up for discussion. Is Claire your girlfriend?" This time it was his eyes piercing through Castiel.

"Drink as much as you want, there's more in the carafe," Castiel said. He gave a small shrug as he ate some bacon. "I do not have a girlfriend or a boyfriend. Why are you secretive about your life and your dreams? I do not seek to damage either. It may be that I could help improve your life and aid you in achieving your dreams. I would like to do both if you would permit me, but I cannot if you don't tell me about them."

"You must have knight-in-shining-armor complex, but I'm no princess to be saved." Dean licked the ketchup off his thumb. "It's like this. I sell my body, but that's it. My personal life, my history, my dreams," he said, scoffing in a way that indicated he had run out of dreams a long time ago, "they're not part of the deal, any deal. I have to keep a piece of myself. It's that simple."

"Knight in shining armor...?" Castiel said, obviously unfamiliar with the term. "I'm not offering to 'save' you. That is not within my power. Aid you, that is within my abilities." Taking a sip of coffee, he looked at Dean over the rim of the cup, contemplating. "So what you are saying is that while your body is for sale, your soul is not." He nodded approvingly. "That is good. One should never sell one's soul for any reason. The soul is eternal, the body fleeting. Though you can safely share such things with those you trust, otherwise your life will be lonely. Perhaps someday, you will feel you can trust me. I would like to know more about the real Dean Win--Hendrix."

"Maybe if we'd met at some bar and you'd bought me a drink or threatened to kick my ass. But I don't mix my business with pleasure, even when I get pleasure out of my business. And you do... give me pleasure." Wiping his mouth, he dropped the napkin on the table. "I'll change into regular clothes, in case they come to pick this suit up," he said, standing up. "Not that I think it needs any tailoring."

"That is because you have never had clothes tailor-made to fit you, I suspect. You may well be surprised." He looked up at Dean, his brow creased, though he was pleased to hear he had pleasured Dean. "Threatening to 'kick your ass' is an effective means of telling someone you would like to get to know them better? I have always perceived it to be a sign of aggression."

"Met some of my best friends during brawls," Dean winked. "But you... yeah, you shouldn't try this at home. I wouldn't want you to get hurt." With that, he disappeared through the French doors.

* * * 

After dropping Castiel off at an office building in Beverly Hills, Dean changed the radio station, cranked up the music and took off. Traffic was a bit of a bitch until he got off the freeway and started taking back roads. He'd thought about going to the bank and cashing the check, but then he decided to go see Sam. If Cas wasn't gonna need him until four, he had plenty of time to see him and get back, and who knew what Cas would want of him tomorrow.

The first thing he did when he parked at the facility was go into the Admin building and sign over the check. He also made sure the one he'd turned in the day before had actually gone through. Cas seemed trustworthy enough, but in the back of his mind, Dean had to think the guy hadn't gotten rich on being Mr. Nice Guy. When it came to business and money transactions, he had to remember that Cas probably had the upper hand and to never underestimate the guy.

He headed for their bungalow at just the right time because he caught up with Sam and the nurse pushing his wheelchair on the path to the bungalow. Taking over for the nurse, he got Sam to the porch and drew up a chair next to him. Seeing Sam look him up and down, he said, "I know, I look good. You should see me in the monkey suits."

At his brother's questioning look, Dean pulled out his cell phone and started telling him about his adventures in shopping. Course he exaggerated a lot, cursing the fact that someone asked to give mechanical advice on cars was being forced to dress up. As he showed Sam pictures of all the clothes he'd tried on, pictures he'd taken of himself in the mirror, he mimicked Castiel and the sales assistant supposedly nixing cloths based on "one little string hanging wrong," or "not going with his complexion," and a million other nonsensical things. "Best part? When I decked the sales guy for touching the jewels," he said with a serious nod.

The looks he was getting from Sam told him Sam knew he was adding to the story, yet his brother was amused, and that was what counted. He felt Sam's stare, then saw him nod at the fine leather jacket. "I don't know, I think it had been ordered by someone and they never got it so Cas went ahead and got it for me. Dirt cheap, he said," Dean shrugged. "Or maybe he was sick of seeing my other one, it doesn't really fit in with the people around him. Get this... they get tailors to 'cut' holes in their jeans 'just right.'" He laughed.

He told Sam that he had a room across from Castiel's and that there was some sort of big wig dinner or something he was supposed to go to tonight. The face he made was echoed by Sam's expression. "Yeah, the things a lowly car aficionado has to go through," he groaned.

"Speaking of cars and pizza, how do you feel about getting kidnapped? Screw the rules," he said, giving Sam a look filled with mischief.

Sam nodded, the look on his face making it clear he would love to get out of this place for awhile. "Peesa and Doc Peppr," Sam said firmly. "Beach. Go Beach."

With his nod, Dean wheeled him down the path and to the parking lot. Sam's eyes grew large when he didn't see the Impala but instead the car from the picture Dean had shown him the other day. He looked up at Dean. "Carrr?" he asked, then looked back at the expensive roadster.

"You don't think I'm being unfaithful to my baby, do you? But yeah... some car." He drove Sam around it to give him a good view and then caught sight of one of the medics and shoved the wheel chair in front of the car, and stood in front of Sam, trying to look casual. 

When the danger of getting caught passed, he opened up the car door and brought Sam close, locking the brakes on the chair. "Alright Gigantor, tell me you're not damned lucky your big brother has super hero strength. Ready?" As gruff and casual as his words were, Dean lifted Sam up with as much gentleness and care as if he were rescuing an injured child after a hunt, making sure to shake him as little as possible and prepared to die rather than to allow him to fall. "That's it... I gotcha Sammy," he said, letting out a breath when Sam was seated. 

Bending over, he lifted Sam's legs into the vehicle, and started to buckle him in. "Dude, maybe we should re-think the pizza. You could use a diet." 

"Peesa. Di-et Doc Peppr," Sam offered, grinning at Dean. "You hero. Bat...Bat-hero," Sam said, struggling to remember the hero his brother loved.

"You bet I am." He grinned back. "Beach it is," he said, pulling away and closing the door. That meant an hour drive each way, but he wasn't about to refuse Sam's request. He'd missed his voice so fucking bad. Now that Sam could talk, every word seemed to make Dean happy. Dean folded the wheelchair and put it in the trunk. 

After the wheelchair was secured, Dean got in the car and turned it on. "Just feel the power, Sammy." Still grinning, he lowered the music for Sam's sake and backed out of the lot like he was being chased. Pulling his cell out, he gave Sam a look, then dialed the facility. It took a good five minutes to talk them into canceling one of Sam's sessions after Dean gave them some BS about someone visiting Sam and not having time to come back later. He gave a sob story about an uncle who was only in California for a half day and it was now or never for him to have a visit with Sam. He also promised to go to the kitchen and pick up a nutritious meal for Sam and sounded suitably chastised for not having given  
prior notice, before he hung up. 

Sam tilted his head back, enjoying the sunshine and the feel of the wind on his face. He looked at the passing scenery hungrily. When the car slowed to stop at a stop light Sam looked over at Dean. "I walk. I hunt. We hunt. Prom-ise," he said confidently, his eyes blazing with determination. 

Reaching down to Sam's lap, Dean took his brother's hand and squeezed it. "Gonna hold you to that, bro. Promise."  
Sam nodded and managed to lightly squeeze Dean's hand back. "Prom-ise."

"Sam! You... I felt that!" All the honking cars in the world couldn't wipe the smile off Dean's face after that. Not even the curses shouted at him as cars drove around him. Nah, nothing in the world would take that happy moment from him. Nothing.

* * * 

It had been a great couple of hours with Sam. When he'd brought him back to the facility, a nurse had seen them in the parking lot. Dean had tossed a blanket over Sam and for about three seconds pretended Sam wasn't there, then changed his story and told her he hadn't taken Sam anywhere. He'd claimed that he'd just let Sam sit in the car, cause he'd wanted to see it. The nurse had given him a look that said she didn't buy his innocent act, and left. Then Sam had given him a look that said the blanket hadn't been appreciated and was just plain stupid. Still, when he'd grinned, so had Sam, and that made Dean's day. 

When he got back to the hotel, he left Castiel's car with the valet and went to the Impala to get some of his gear. He'd tried hard to forget the flickering lights and the exploding bulbs, but no dice. He couldn't imagine a hotel like this leaving a repeat electrical issue unresolved, let alone in their penthouse suite. He'd asked Bernard - oh yeah, the hotel manager had unwound enough to tell him he should call him by his first name, though not Barney as Dean had called him before - and Bernard said the suite had no problems and it had to be some sort of fluke with the electrical issues. He also said they'd had electricians up there in the morning and found nothing. 

Dean had felt the weight of a stare and turned to see an older guy giving him a look. When he didn't react, the man started to approach, but Bernard practically intercepted the man and guided him over to the bar. Since he didn't have the word 'hooker' stamped on his forehead, Dean decided either the guy had been around when he'd checked in yesterday or there was gossip going around. Either way, as he waited for the elevator, he was real amused at the way he'd just been protected from someone's advances, he guessed.

Once upstairs, he walked around the suite with the EMF detector and the feedback told him something had been there. "Sonova..." The electromagnetic radiation seemed to be the highest in certain areas... areas he knew too well. Every place where the furniture had been moved. His eyebrows snapped together. Claire? Claire was a... what, maybe a ghost? But Castiel had been so damned calm when he talked about her, like there was nothing unusual about her comings and goings. Then again, Cas was calm and cool about everything. He'd bet nothing ruffled that guy's feathers, nothing. 

He had hours to kill before Cas would be back to change for the event so he was kind of glad to have something to do other than lay around and look pretty, though by the time this week ended, he was gonna be pretty damned good at doing just that. Clearing his throat, he started talking to the empty room. "Claire, come out. I want to talk to you. Claire?"

His salt rifle and an iron rod were close by, in the open duffel bag just inside the bedroom, but seeing as she hadn't hurt Cas and had apparently talked to him, Dean wasn't that worried. He kept calling her, telling her he just wanted to talk, that he wanted to know why she was moving furniture around. All he got was silence. He kept trying for a good half hour, then decided she wasn't going to come.

Grabbing his dad's journal out of the bag, he sat down and thumbed through it. He remembered seeing a ritual to encourage poltergeists and other ghosts to show themselves. Once he found what he was looking for, he took a look at his watch. There were still a couple of hours before Cas would get back so yeah, he could get this done. 

A short while later, he had a few candles lit and had burned a little sage. He'd placed little salt piles in four corners of the room, and had a bowl of water on the coffee table between the candles. As he read the words of the ritual, he felt a cold puff of air and looked up. "Claire?" He cocked his head, then continued to read. By the time he finished, she'd moved the furniture around, but still wasn't visible. "Come on, Claire, I'm not gonna hurt you. Show yourself. Like you show yourself to Castiel. Come on, Claire," he urged. 

She was still there, he knew it from the coolness in the room. "I'd like to help you, and the only way I can do that is if you talk to me." He looked around and sighed. Fine. He'd just have to try a banishing prayer, at least to keep her out of this place. Maybe later he could try to call her again at a nearby location to figure out who she was or what she wanted, then take care of her bones or do whatever needed to be done. Thumbing through the journal, he found Saint Michael's prayer and started to say the words. "Sáncte Míchael Archángele, defénde nos in proélio, cóntra nequítiam et insídias diáboli ésto --

He'd been concentrating so hard that the first indication he had that Castiel had returned was the sound of elevator doors hissing open immediately after the ding. Dipping his fingers into the bowl, he grabbed the silver beads and then his book and headed for the bedroom. "Hey Cas, I'll be right out!"

Castiel walked into the room and saw the candles, and the way Dean was rushing to the bedroom. Had he misjudged this man? Castiel followed after him. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Told you I'll be right there," Dean said, kicking the duffel under the bed and dropping the book as he rushed toward the bathroom. "Need to take a piss."

"Dean!" Castiel demanded, using supernatural speed to reach Dean before he made it to the bathroom and grabbing for what was in Dean's hand. "How could you bring drugs into my home? Is that what you've needed the money for?"

"The hell," Dean shoved Castiel off, and started to close the door with his shoulder. "You nuts?"

Castiel kicked the door open and grabbed again for Dean's hand, gripping his wrist firmly. "Show me it!" he demanded.  
"No." Angry, Dean tried to pull his hand away. The hell? Once again, he pushed Castiel, then pulled his arm, but the trick didn't work. If he wanted to get free, he'd have to punch the guy, and that was a definite no. "Let me go. Cas, let go," he said, through gritted teeth, his eyes clashing with Castiel's. "It's not drugs Goddammit."

"Then what is it?" Castiel's gaze went to Dean's hand and he watched as Dean slowly unclenched his fist, revealing the beads and cross of a rosary. Castiel's hard face immediately softened and he lightly touched the wet rosary. "I'm so sorry Dean. I had no idea you were in the midst of prayer. Why didn't you just...tell me. I would have let you finish in privacy. Has it been contaminated? Is that why you placed it in holy water? To purify it? You really should let a priest do that."

"Just forget it," Dean answered curtly, rubbing his wrist and still unable to believe some pencil-pushing businessman had a grip like that. Turning away, he dried the rosary with a towel. "You're early," he said tightly, ignoring Castiel's questions.

"Yes, we finished earlier than expected. Please, Dean, forgive me. I did not think you were involved in anything like drugs but when I saw the candles and bowl, prayer was not the first thing that came to mind, I am ashamed to say. I could...I could purify the rosary for you if you'd like."

"I don't need it purified, and you said you weren't a priest." Dean knew he sounded surly and needed to let it go. He'd promised to be at Castiel's beck and call and that meant not arguing over this. "I'm sorry. I overreacted, it's fine. Really," he said, now meeting Cas' eyes.

"I was the one who overreacted. And no, I am not a priest, but I could purify it." Castiel turned when he heard the soft sounds of a girl sobbing. "Claire?" he asked, leaving Dean in the bathroom and heading out to the main room.

Dean followed and saw a young blond girl, about seven or eight, standing in the middle of the living room and crying. Her hands were on her stomach. Her head snapped up suddenly and she ran for Castiel. Dean immediately grabbed Cas' wrist and walked in front of him.

She stopped in her tracks and looked at Castiel. "He hurt me."

"I did not--"

"Please tell him to go, he hurts," she cried. "He hurts..."

"Cas I... wait a minute," he whipped around. "What are you doing talking to ghosts?" he mouthed the last word.

"She's James' Novak's daughter," he said, pushing Dean gently aside. "Claire, I'm certain he didn't mean to hurt you." He knelt down in front of her. "He won't do it again, okay?"

"She's your daughter? You say it like she's someone else's..." Dean ran a hand through his hair. Things just got ten times more complicated. "You don't remember her, do you?"

"Daddy, please come home. Please."

"Cas, how long has she been following you around," Dean asked, now thinking she was haunting the man, not the place.

"One year, three months, and nineteen days ago is when she first made her presence known. I have tried to convince her to leave, but to no avail," Castiel said.

"Do you know her full name? Is it Claire Novak? Where did she live, where's her mom?" As he approached Castiel, Claire shrank away, seemed to disappear and then came back.

"No. According to records and acquaintances, James Novak was never married and had no children but she calls me her daddy, so I assume either she is mistaken or the accounts are wrong. I've no idea about her mother," he said to Dean then focused on the ghostly girl. "Claire, you need not be afraid of Dean. He didn't mean to scare you or hurt you."

"He said the words, and pushed and pushed and pushed me, he pushed me, Daddy."

"Claire,” Dean said. “I was trying to send you where you belong. It's not here, look at me," he said without approaching any closer. When the tearful child looked up, he spoke again. "This place isn't your home, is it? You keep moving the furniture around. Is it to make it feel like home?"

Standing there with her hand clenched around the hem of her white dress, she nodded. 

"What's your mother's name?"

"Amelia."

"Where is she?"

"Gone. I can't find her." Claire's tears started to flow again. "There was a fire and then... then I couldn't find her."

"Were you in the fire?"

"No. It was downstairs. All over downstairs. Mommy... she got me. We went inside the shower and... Now I can't find her. And Daddy, I waited for you. Waited and waited. You promised..."

"I'm sorry, Claire," Castiel said, trying to figure out what he could say to the girl. He had tried before but with little success. "There was a bad accident and when I woke up, nothing of what came before in this life was known to me. But if you try, you can likely feel another tug, one that will take you to those who love you and miss you. They are, I'm certain, waiting for you."

"You're pushing, too. You're pushing!" The lights started to flicker and she started to change, her flawless skin suddenly appearing raw and burned. "Hurts... don't... hurts!"

"No, Claire, I've told you, you can stay. You can stay with me," Castiel said, unsure how else to deal with the child. When he'd asked a reaper to come and speak with her, Claire hid and refused to go with the reaper.

"Cas, she needs to go where she belongs. Something is keeping her here. Do you have something of hers? Something on your keychain maybe, or... I don't know, it could be anything. But since it's not this place that she's tied down to, it might be an item. That's how she's following you around." Seeing the kid drop to the ground and cry harder, Dean wished Sam were there to talk to her. And if not that, do a bit of research on who she was and whether she really was Novak's kid who Castiel couldn't remember. "Claire, we're gonna figure this out, okay? We won't hurt you. I won't hurt you," he added, seeing the accusation in her eyes.

"Claire, please, come, sit on the couch with me," Castiel said and motioned to the leather sofa. "You like the stories I tell you from the Bible, don't you? Or stories of what Heaven is like." Castiel emptied his pockets onto the table and waved for Dean to go through the things, to see if something looked like it might have been Claire's. "Dean you can also check my briefcase. Perhaps something in there, or in my suitcase if you find nothing here?" he said.

While the pair sat on the sofa talking, Dean went through Castiel's things. There were no pictures in his wallet, no keep sakes. Nothing personal, not in the contents of his pockets, and Dean couldn't find anything personal in the briefcase. He did stop to look at papers regarding Ellen's business, noting the spreadsheets and highlights of profit margins of various departments. Shoving the papers back with more force than necessary, he completed his search, and then went to the bedroom to look through the closet and the drawer of the nightstand. Every once in a while, he heard Claire's soft, "you promised."

Dropping his hand away from one of Castiel's suits, Dean walked back and stood in the doorway to the living room. "Claire, what did Cas promise you?"

She stared at him like she didn't understand.

"What did your dad promise you? Was he gonna bring you a present?"

She shook her head no.

Dean lightly touched the bottom of his fist to the door frame, thinking he'd struck out, but she went on.

"He didn't finish the story. He had to go away again, for business. But he promised, he promised to come back and tell me the end."

"That might be it Cas, you owe her the end of a story. I've never heard of a ghost being tied to something that isn't physical, but that doesn't mean it can't happen." Rubbing his eyes, Dean came over and sat down with them. "If he tells you the story, will you go to your mom? She's waiting for you. You can walk into a light, or if someone comes for you, go with them. Will you do that?"

"What was the story? I've told you many stories," Castiel asked the girl. If he were not exiled, he could carry the girl to Heaven himself, but he didn't want the child to be chained here once his time of exile had passed, especially if it were her father she was waiting on. Her father had already moved on, though Castiel had been reluctant to tell her that, unsure how she would react. He hadn't particularly minded the company, even if it was a child. He could tell her things he could tell no one else.

"Donkeyskin."

Dean made a face. "What's wrong with Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty? What the hell, Cas?!"

"Donkeyskin," Castiel said. "I do not remember where the story stopped. Perhaps if you tell the first part of the story Dean and I can tell you the rest." He looked at Dean, a bit of hope in his eyes that Dean knew this tale, for he certainly didn't. He didn't know the others that Dean spoke of either though.

Dean shook his head no, but as she started to tell the tale, he grabbed Castiel's lap top out of the brief case and powered it up. "Password?" He started to give the computer to Cas, but the guy casually gave him the password. Maybe he would change it and that's why he'd given it. Dean did a little research and found a nice, short version of the story, and passed the lap top over to Cas. While Cas read it over, Dean asked Claire a couple of questions to slow her down. By the time she was done, Cas smoothly took over. Claire was entranced as she listened, and she didn't seem to notice that the delivery was about as dry as a business report given to a board of directors. When Cas finally reached the end, Dean joined in the, "and they lived happily ever after" part of it.

"Are you ready now?" Dean asked her. 

"Are you going to say the words again?" she asked, tears filling her eyes.

"No, I think you're a big girl. Your mother misses you, and you need to go take care of her. You can do that, can't you? Now that you know the end of the story?"

Claire looked at Castiel as if begging him to come with her. "Dean, let me speak with Claire alone, would you?"

Dean was a little reluctant. He knew Cas had been seeing the ghost on and off for almost two years but today might be different since today was the day Cas was trying to make her go where she belonged. Standing up, he went to the bedroom but returned seconds later. Taking Castiel's hand, he poured the salt he had in his palm into Cas' palm. "If anything... they don't like this," he explained. "You understand?"

"Yes, but it will be fine," Castiel assured him.

When Dean went into the bedroom and shut the door, Castiel knelt in front of the ghost, setting the salt on the table. "Claire, it is time for you to go," he said softly. "Your mother and your father await you. You father did not survive the accident he was in which is why he never came to you to finish the story. I am Castiel, not your father. I am an angel of Heaven sent to live among the people of Earth so I might understand better many things. You need not be afraid. Both of your parents will be there and I am certain your father will tell you many more stories."

She flickered. Though she shook her head 'no,' she reached out and touched his face and whispered, "You speak funny, but you look just like my daddy."

"This is your father's body, but he had already been taken to Heaven when I entered it." He spread his wings up and out, allowing them to glow with Grace so she could see them. "If you wish to see your father again, you need to go with...her." He motioned to the reaper who now stood nearby. "She will take you to a wonderful place." Castiel lightly touched Claire's hair. "You are a beautiful child, and it was my honor to be your friend. When I return to Heaven, I will come to visit you." 

She dragged her eyes away from Castiel's wings and looked at the woman who'd scared her before. "Can't you take me?" she asked, looking back at Cas.

"I will not be returning to Heaven for a very long time." He took the hand of the reaper and pulled the woman a bit closer. "She is kind and will take care of you, I promise. She will take you to those who love you. Please Claire. Have faith." He held his other hand out to the ghostly child.

Claire gave him her hand, swallowed hard when he joined hers with the woman's, and slowly walked away, turning only once to look back at Cas. "Is it far?" she whispered, just before she disappeared through the wall.

Castiel smiled and after a final long stretch of his wings, he let the light of Grace fade from them and once again pulled the now invisible wings back in. "It is done, Dean. Claire is gone," he called toward the bedroom.

Dean walked in and saw the salt on the table. "Good," he said, eyeing Cas as he walked by him and blew out the candles and started to clean up the salt and the holy water he'd made. "You think you might have mentioned she's a ghost, you know, when I asked if she was your girlfriend."

"I did not wish to unsettle you. Most would consider me crazy or, when they encountered her, retreat in fear. Few would attempt to talk with her or banish her. And as you were not inclined to speak of Sam, I saw no need to elaborate about Claire," Castiel said as he shrugged out of his suit's jacket, removed his cuff links, and began to unbutton his shirt.

"I see." Dean didn't really, but there was no point in making an issue of it. "Well, if she comes back, let me know. I'll take care of it."

"She won't. She's moved on to Heaven. And if you did banish her, that would put her in purgatory, not a place where such a kind child belongs," he said, pulling off his shirt and heading into the bedroom. "I'm going to shower. We need to leave in an hour for the gathering."

"You may be a financial genius, but this... I think I know a little more than you about ghosts and purgatory and that kind of crap. She's been trailing you for two years and you couldn't set her free, and she busted up all the lights here. I don't know what else she may have done, and she could have gotten violent in the future. They do that, you know? If you don't understand what it is they need, what has to be resolved. Trust me, armchair hunting? Not a good idea." 

Castiel paused in the doorway to the bedroom and looked back at Dean. "Why would I attempt to hunt a piece of furniture? That would not be challenging as armchairs are not alive and cannot move of their own accord."

Okay so maybe he wasn't a wannabe hunter. "When you're right, you're right." Dean gave an innocent smile.  
"Sometimes, you baffle me," Castiel said with a shake of his head and turned away, walking to the bathroom to shower.

*

After he heard the shower start, Dean stripped off his shirt and knocked on the door. Hearing a grunt, he walked inside and partly slid the glass door of the shower open. "You ah... want me in there with you." The shower was clearly built for two. "Or... you know, after?" Ever since their struggle over the rosary, Dean felt a little unsure of where they stood. It really shouldn't bother him that Cas had been suspicious. Hell, he'd be an idiot if he wasn't suspicious of some guy he'd picked up off the street. Still, he couldn't help it if it rankled a little.

Castiel's gaze travelled over Dean's naked chest and back up to his face. He gave a small smile. "You're welcome to join me if you'd like." Cupping the side of Dean's face with his wet palm and running his thumb over Dean's lips he added. "But you don't have to do anything you don't want in that regard. Just so you understand that."

Dean didn't say anything. Gaze locked with Castiel's, he shed the remainder of his clothes and stepped inside, directly in front of Cas though the other shower head was on as well. "Ditto. You don't have to do or ask for anything you don't want," Dean finally answered. "Course if there is anything you want..." he bumped lightly into Cas.

Laughing softly, Castiel kissed Dean lightly on the lips. "I am afraid I haven't much of an idea of what to ask for. I will trust you to guide me. You have not disappointed me and I have faith that you won't."

Dean grunted and bit back a comment challenging Castiel's faith in him. What the hell? What did he want from this man? It was a damned business arrangement, one he was making out on like a bandit. And Cas hadn't treated him badly, not even a little. Nowhere near as badly as many of his johns. But the fact that it was bothering him worried Dean. This was exactly why he didn't like to do the all night thing, or any job that was more than a few hours. Then there was the possibility of blurring business lines. "I won't disappoint you," he promised, pulling away and moving behind Castiel.

Taking the soap in one hand, he wrapped both arms around Cas and started washing his chest while nuzzling the side of his neck. He was pressed right up against Cas' slippery body, his cock sliding against the guy's firm ass and slowly hardening. Soapy rivulets dripped down Castiel's chest. Dean brought the soap lower, rubbing it in circles over his rippling abs then lathering his cock with it. Kissing his way to Castiel's ear, he whispered thickly, "gonna give you seven minutes of heaven." 

"Why is it seven minutes?" Castiel asked, tilting his head so Dean had easy access to his neck. He groaned as he felt his cock hardening while Dean's washed it and stroked it. He could already feel his hips wanting to move.

"You said we had to hurry, or I'd make it last all ... night... long." Sucking a line down the side of Cas' throat, Dean licked the spot right above his collar bone, then dropped an open mouthed kiss over the same spot, sucking Cas' flesh into his mouth. As he pumped Cas' cock, he sucked hard enough to leave a bruise. He knew better, but damn, he wanted to mark this man up. Wanted to be the first one to do it, that was all, he told himself. He told himself a lot of things, like maybe Cas wouldn't like it. Or he should ask, but none of it made him stop.

The social gathering tonight was important or Castiel might just have told Dean not to worry about it. "We can make it last all night after the party," he suggested, moaning as Dean sucked on his flesh. He had no idea the mouth could be used for so many pleasurable things. "Feels good," he said, finally giving in and let his hips begin to move.

"Oh yeah, feels good," Dean agreed, rocking harder as Cas clenched and flexed his ass with every thrust of his hips. "That's it, fuck my fist... that's it, take what you need," he said, letting Cas set the rhythm. The soap dropped from his other hand. Dean started to explore Cas' body, sliding his hand over his rippling abs and up and down his side. His palm slid over Cas' nipple and he felt the guy shudder against him. "Like that, huh?" Sucking on the same spot he'd bruised earlier, Dean started to play with Cas' nipple, rubbing it and pinching it between his fingers, Cas' gasp sending blood surging straight to Dean's cock. He managed to slide one knee between Cas' legs and lifting his thigh, pressed it against the guy's balls.

The shower enclosure filled with steam. The sound of rushing water, throaty groans and panted breaths filled the air. Dean's "fuck, fuck, fuck," punctuated his suddenly more desperate thrusts against Castiel as he got closer and chased his release.

Castiel was lost in the feelings this man was evoking in him. He groaned in response to Dean's words, "more" and "good" escaping repeatedly from his own lips. He felt it as Dean's movements became more erratic, more determined. The lights flickered faintly and Castiel struggled to hold onto his emotions and keep them under control. His wings seems to have a mind of their own and snapped out, curling forward and around, trapped in the shower as they were. Dean was now rubbing against them and Castiel's knees felt weak as he let out with a cry of pleasure like he hadn't before. His arms slid behind him, wrapping around Dean's waist and pulling him closer still. It took only a few more thrusts against his backside and Castiel was shouting his orgasm, the lights brightening briefly. 

"Oh... God..." Dean groaned, closing his arm tighter around Cas and grinding against his ass cheek, Castiel's almost violent release taking him over the edge. He was whispering things, unsure what he said until the heat writhing within him finally subsided. Sliding his hand up Castiel's chest to the side of his face, he turned it, kissed him lightly, then wheeled Cas around to face him. "All night. Later," he said, unsure whether he was promising or extracting a promise. Bringing his mouth down over Cas', this time he pushed his tongue inside, probing every corner, moaning softly as their tongues danced a now familiar dance.

"Yes," Castiel said, responding readily to Dean's kiss. When Dean finally broke off to catch his breath, they both were panting. "All night. I look forward to all night with you." Wrapping his arms around Dean's waist he pulled Dean firmly against him and kissed him intensely, breaking it off reluctantly, reminding himself that Dean needed air. Releasing Dean, he bent over and picked up the soap and the washcloth and began to move the soapy cloth over Dean's body. 

"Yeah..." Dean managed, panting for much needed air, and closing his eyes as Cas ran his hands all over him.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean pulled the car over to the valet line in front of the two story art gallery that had been rented in order to host the party. Through the windows, Dean could see drinks being circulated and that glass bars and tables had been set up where people could set there drinks and socialize. As soon as they turned the keys over and stepped onto the sidewalk, he tugged at his bow tie and looked over at Castiel. "So, am I the arm candy or just a friend? You know, so I don't step in it."

"What would you feel most comfortable with?" Castiel asked. "Either is fine with me."

"It's your call, Cas."

"Everyone will be shocked that I am not alone, so very quickly they will likely draw the conclusion we are a couple. I am certain it will spread rapidly unless I actively try to convince them otherwise." Castiel put his arm around Dean's waist. "So let them think what they will."

Dean looked down at Cas' hand on his stomach. "Oh, I know what they'll think. You've sure come a long way from 'no pda' to this. It's like a blow job has magical powers." He grinned, slowing down at the door to let Cas give their names. Practically the moment they walked in, several people approached them. They fawned over Castiel and asked to be introduced to Dean, barely hiding their curiosity when Cas gave them the barest of information. As they talked business, Dean freely snagged drinks off trays and stuffed his mouth with the lovely puff pastry things that the waiters kept bringing by him. His mouth was full when one of Cas' female associates asked him what line of business he was in and Dean shrugged off the horrified look she gave him when he spoke around his food. "Between jobs at the moment." That too earned him some speculative looks.

After his comment asking which idiot would pay six thousand bucks for a sculpture that looked like it had been made by a four year old was met with cool stares, Dean decided to forget about the stuffed shirts and enjoy himself with the free booze. Eventually someone mentioned movies and he found himself participating in the conversation, especially when it turned out one of the older guys was into classic westerns. 

Philip Stuckey, James Novak's lawyer and longtime friend came up to Castiel. "So who is this macho he-man model you've got with you?"

Castiel shrugged. "I met him at a restaurant. He agreed to help improve my social skills and he is teaching me many things."

"He doesn't seem to have good social skills with this crowd," Philip snorted.

"Perhaps it falls into areas I should not speak about. He is not experienced dealing with the class of people here. He speaks his mind, not something many of these men and women are accustomed to. The sculpture does look like it was made by a young child."

"It's for charity and a tax write off."

Castiel chuckled. "It is still ugly."

"So c'mon Jim, who is he, really?" Philip asked again.

"My companion for the next week."

The man's eyes grew huge and he whispered. "Jim, are you telling me he's a-a-a prostitute?" 

"He was a waiter," Castiel said, watching Dean talk animatedly with Mr. Chambers. Mr. Chambers was laughing and it was the first time Castiel had seen the older man look happy. "I enjoy his company."

Dean felt Cas' stare, grinned at him, and went back to his conversation. Pretty soon, the conversation turned from movies to guns and Dean was even more in his element. The next thing he knew, the guy he was talking to and his wife were inviting Castiel and himself to their home on the weekend. "I've got a home movie theater and we'll get a barbeque together, what do you think," Mr. Chambers asked Cas when Dean didn't answer but looked to Castiel. "Saturday?"

Castiel had never been invited to essentially a private party before and both his eyebrows lifted. He looked at Dean. "I would be agreeable to it if you are." 

The invite was for the second to last day Dean would be with Cas and if the guy was agreeable to spending it at a barbecue, Dean was more than happy with it. "Sounds good to me. Where do you live?"

"Bel Aire," the man answered.

"Oh."

"And how about you? Did you come all the way from New York too?"

"Nah. I live... here, in Beverly Hills, for the moment," Dean answered, glancing at the man who'd joined Cas and was now choking on his drink. "You alright?"

"Yes Philip, are you all right?" Castiel asked, but there was no hint of concern in his voice.

Philip glared at Castiel then focused on Dean. "And where do you think you'll be living a week from now? When Mr. Novak returns to New York?"

The Chambers gave Castiel and Dean an odd look. Castiel gave them a smile. "He has been staying with me. If he wishes to continue to stay at the penthouse until he's found the right future for himself, I have no problem with that." He gave Philip a look that made it quite clear he should keep his mouth shut. Returning his gaze to the couple, he continued, "Dean quite enjoys cars and I have been trying to encourage him to perhaps look into some jobs dealing with cars. He owns a classic 1967 Impala that he has rebuilt. It looks nearly new." 

Dean had the guy's number now, he realized he was being baited. "Philip," he drawled in a chiding voice, "you're quite the conversation killer tonight, aren't you. Maybe you should get yourself a drink or three and lose that stick, who knows, then you might be able to snag yourself a girlfriend," he winked and, grabbing a glass of champagne off a waiter's tray, forced it into the unamused man's hand.

Mr. Chambers started laughing. Then his wife, and a few others. Someone even said Dean was right, and it was about time someone told Philip the truth. 

The lull in conversation dissipated and they started talking about old cars for a while before Dean felt Cas touch his back and nod. Taking the hint, he broke off his conversation and said they'd talk some more on Saturday and moved off with Castiel. "I see what you mean about some of your friends being jerks. Thanks, for, you know, bringing up cars."

"It was not entirely innocent on my part. Mr. Chambers owns quite a few cars and I believe he is less than satisfied with his current mechanic. Both Mr. and Mrs. Chambers are pleasant, good people. I apologize for Philip. He can be quite the prejudiced man. I have heard it said he has 'the silver spoon syndrome' I believe it is called?" 

He led Dean into the next room which was set up with several tables. Doors opened up onto an interior garden where more sculptures were displayed. "It is almost time for dinner and then the charity auction. I assumed the filet mignon would be to your liking for dinner?" When a server approached Castiel said, "James Novak and companion," and handed her the dinner invitation. She guided them to a table near the podium and pointed to their reserved seats.

"Can't ever go wrong with steak. Or burgers," he grinned, meaning every word as they took their seats. He asked some questions about the charity, trying to figure out why this was an important function, like Cas had said. Couldn't the guy just have written a check, or told someone else to bid for him, he wondered. As other people arrived, he learned how sharp Cas' mind was, how many detailed facts he remembered as he identified some of the people who came in and gave a little of their backgrounds. Bored with hearing about what line of work they were all in, he jokingly asked for the 'sexy details' and was shocked when Castiel started to tell him who was cheating on whom.

Castiel suddenly stood up and moved to the chair beside him and pulled it out. "Mrs. Harvelle, you look lovely tonight," he said, nodding to the woman in the beautiful sparkly black dress that went down to the woman's stiletto heels. He took her shoulder wrap and put it on the back of the chair then motioned for her to sit. "I'm pleased you could come."

"Thank you Mr. Novak," she drawled then did a double take. "Dean? Dean, is that you, Boy? By all that's holy," Ellen rushed around Castiel and pulled Dean to his feet. "How you doing boy? How's Sammy? And why the hell can't you pick up a damned phone and call me once in a while?"

Looking a little sheepish, Dean braced to be slugged. When it didn't come, he cleared his throat. "Ahhh... sorry, just been busy. He... he's good." Not wanting to discuss that, he looked her up and down, respectfully, and grinned. "Cas is right, you do look good." When she looked over at Cas, Dean took the opportunity to glare at him. So this was why it was so important for them to come to this function, he either wanted to see Dean's interaction with Ellen, or thought he could put her at ease with Dean's presence... if he'd suspected they knew each other better than Dean had let on.   
"Cas?" she asked, giving Dean a curious look.

"Yes," Castiel said. "I go by Castiel outside of working relationships. Dean apparently prefers 'Cas.'"

"You two know each other?" she asked.

"Only recently," Castiel said. "There was a misunderstanding and he was fired from his job because of me. In compensation, I've offered him some short term employment. I had no idea you two knew each other until this morning."

"Small world," she said and gave Dean a look, as if debating asking him something. Instead, she gave him a smile and returned to her seat. "You owe me a dance Dean, when the band starts playing after the auction."

Castiel pushed her chair in and then seated himself.

"So I suppose you want to talk business," Ellen said, taking a sip of the red wine and wishing it was whiskey.

Castiel shook his head. "Absolutely not. I invited you here merely to offer you a night of relaxation. Business should stay in the board room."

That seemed to relax her and she lifted her glass in a toast. "Here, here. I'm all for that. So what is this charity for?"

"Accident victims," Castiel said. "Anyone who needs assistance regaining their life after a severe accident. We focus on helping to pay for physical or mental rehabilitation, or to help someone like myself who loses his memory, helping them re-assimilate into the world, get them education and jobs. It was a fairly small charity group until they approached me to be their spokesperson. I was terribly fortunate that I was wealthy with a good strong business. Most people are not so lucky and the costs can be devastating. We support cutting edge experimental treatment facilities and research as well."

Ellen looked at Dean. "So you're getting assistance from Mr. Novak?"

"Please, you may call me Castiel," Castiel said.

"Yeah." Dean said. Her steady gaze cut right through him. God he hoped she meant she thought Castiel's charity was helping and not... "It's about the long and short of it," he said, deciding it would be best not to hang himself by adding details. "How's Jo?" He was desperate to get her off the topic, and equally desperate for Cas not to ask questions. Goddamn it, this was gonna be a long night.

"Stubborn," Ellen said with a shake of her head. "She's taken up the profession. I was hoping she would follow in my footsteps and not her father's. I'd like to throttle Bobby for helping her. She at least knows how to pick up the phone," she said, arching an eyebrow at Dean.  
"What did your husband do?" Castiel asked. He knew Mr. Harvelle was dead, but had not been able to find out anything about his profession.

"He worked in the field, going after things for the business," Ellen said. "He was killed during a job."

"I'm sorry," Castiel said.

She shrugged and upended her wine. "It was a long time ago."

Shit. Recalling Jo's accusations about his dad having been at fault for Harvelle's death, Dean followed suit, emptying his own glass. "There's a good chance we're all gonna walk out of here drunk." Course Ellen wasn't amused, and looking at Cas, neither was he. It was time to change the subject. Again. "So, how long are you in town for?"

"About ten more days," Ellen said. "I'm picking up some items from one of my representatives in the Far East. He's supposed to arrive in about a week or so."

Philip walked by, his gaze roaming over Ellen appreciatively. When his eyes came to rest on Dean, his face turned sour. "Best watch yourself around this one, Mrs. Harvelle. He's available for hire."

"Philip!" Castiel snapped. He was out of his seat and grabbed the man by the lapel, dragging him off to the side and out of earshot of Dean and Ellen. It was obvious the lawyer had been drinking quite a lot, and it was equally obvious Castiel didn't care.

Ellen looked at Dean, then Castiel, then her gaze returned to Dean. "You got something to tell me?" she asked.

Dean's mouth had dropped open in shock. He closed it and swallowed, his gaze following Cas and Philip. When he looked back at Ellen, he couldn't shake off the shame that swept through him. She knew him. She was almost family. What she thought about him mattered. He sniffed and shook his head. "No. I got nothing." Licking his lips, he waived a server down and asked if they could have a full bottle of wine.

Rapping her fingers on the table, she gave Dean a cool look. "Try again."

He was silent for a long moment, but then his head reared up. "For Christ's sake, what do you want me to say? I do what I have to, alright?" Cas had returned and Dean didn't know if he'd heard. The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to put some more words together. "He doesn't know. Don't tell Sam," he whispered, pulling his gaze away from both of them. 

"My apologies, to both of you. I've sent Philip home," Castiel said, settling back at the table.

Ellen looked at Castiel, her voice brittle. "So you're taking advantage of Dean's situation."

"I am afraid Dean has not seen fit to share his personal life with me, so I don't know what 'situation' it might be that I am taking advantage of. I caused the loss of his job and wished to help him find a new one. He will not take charity, so I hired him to accompany me to the social functions I must attend while in town. He has been teaching me about things that, with my amnesia, I have been lacking in knowledge of, such as tipping. I did not intend to hire him for anything else, but," Castiel took Dean's hand and gave it a light kiss, staring into Dean's eyes, "I am enjoying his company a great deal more than I ever expected and I hope the same is true for him. I hope I have made it perfectly clear he owes me nothing more than conversation and attending these functions with me." He turned his gaze back on Ellen. "So no. If I am taking advantage of him, it is quite unintentional."

Ellen's gaze shifted to Dean to judge his reaction to Castiel's words. 

He felt like he was on the hot spot and it made him angry. "He doesn't know, and if anyone's taking advantage, it's me. He's paying me a helluvalot more than anyone else has for a lot less." This time, it was Dean's eyes piercing through her. "This conversation is at an end. I mean it, it's done."

"Please," Castiel said, looking between the two, "I didn't mean to bring discord and unhappiness to either of you. Let us consider Dean's work as off limits as our own. The two of you are obviously friends. Let us discuss things that do not involve Dean's personal life. Do you plan on doing any sight-seeing while in L.A.? Have you been to L.A. often?" Castiel asked Ellen. He gently rubbed his knee against Dean's as if trying to soothe him or apologize.

"I didn't plan on sight-seeing, no. There are plenty of ethnic groups living in L.A. who have marketplaces I can shop at for supplies for my company. That's how I intend to spend my time," Ellen said.

"There are many wonderful sights here. You should take at least one day off to visit a few. Life is too short to spend all your time working," Castiel said. "I was recently reminded of that." He glanced at Dean and gave him a small smile.

Between Castiel's gentle touches and the smile that he rarely bestowed on anyone but Dean, Dean started to thaw out. "You also learned how to multi-task, though you need a little more practice," Dean teased. Feeling Ellen's all too knowing eyes on him, he smoothly added, "You should go up to Santa Barbara. There are beautiful beaches and it's a nice quaint town. Best of all, there are lots of antique stores and I found this guy, he makes and also re-sells a lot of amulets and charms. Authentic stuff, not for tourists."

Ellen watched the interactions between Novak and Dean and leaned back in surprise. Granted, she didn't know the Winchester brothers all that well, but she still cared about them. She'd cared about John, he'd been like family, until the death of her husband. She'd talked often with Bobby Singer and learned a lot about the brothers once they'd come into her life, and felt like they too were now family.

Watching Dean, whom Bobby had always said was quite the ladies man, it was obvious to her that Dean liked Novak. A lot. It was also apparent that Novak liked him. She wasn't thrilled Dean was doing prostitution, but looking between the two, the way Novak touched Dean now and again, gentle and caring, and the way Dean seemed to respond...there certainly seemed to be more than just a 'business' arrangement between them. Realizing Dean expected a response from her, she shook herself out of her thoughts.

"Santa Barbara. Okay, I could do that I suppose, see what he has." She tilted her head, obviously surprised Dean was talking 'hunter' things in front of Novak. Novak was trying to buy her company but had never once brought up hunting and what she did for hunters was too important if he wasn't in the game. The company was big but cash poor, everything she made getting fed back into it like an ouroboros, a snake eating its own tail.

"It's alright. Cas had a little ghost problem and handled it fine. I have a feeling he's in the know," Dean said, looking at Cas and searching his face. In thinking about Castiel's reactions earlier, it made sense. The guy knew about banishing and hadn't blinked at the fact Dean was conducting a ritual. He hadn't questioned the salt, or anything else. Yeah, Dean had put it down to Cas' personality, but he was re-thinking it.

"In the know about what?" Castiel asked.

"Hunting. Ghosts." He nodded his head to the side, "Things." If he was right, and if Castiel was able to see beyond the numbers columns on his profit sheets, then maybe Ellen's business would be safe from him. 

Castiel hesitated then gave a nod. "Yes, I am 'in the know' about many such things considered supernatural." He focused his attention on Ellen. "Many of the items you have purchased through the years are unique and do not belong in the hands of private collectors. They are dangerous, or their attributes are required to deal with certain...situations."

"Monsters," Ellen supplied matter-of-factly.

"In some cases." He looked between Dean and Ellen. "Then you are part of the network of humans--of people, who pursue the supernatural and attempt to defeat it?"

"Well I sure as hell don't do it for the money, sweetheart," Ellen said. "Hunters don't get paid for their work, so they have to get money however they can, and they can't afford to pay the prices I have to pay to get hold of some of the things they need to do their job."

Castiel was silent for a few minutes, sipping his wine and apparently lost in thought. He finally lifted his gaze to Ellen. "It seems we should perhaps start conversations anew come the morrow."  
"I'm not selling you my business," Ellen said firmly.

"Let us discuss it tomorrow without others around, so we may talk freely. This new knowledge changes a great deal. Perhaps a partnership, after a fashion, would be more appropriate. I have financial resources and you have physical resources. Perhaps you would consider selling the business but staying on as CEO with a salary appropriate to your station? As the business shows little profit, we could start your salary at say two hundred thousand," he offered. "Think on it, but for now, let us return to setting business aside. Besides, other guests who will be seated at our table are on their way in."

"Two hundred... are you sure you'd be buying just the bus--" a sharp kick to his shin had him giving a silent "ow!" and glaring at Ellen.

"Two hundred is quite low for a CEO of a company of that size, but as I said, the profit margin makes any more prohibitive. One hundred thousand is probably more reasonable, but really, that's a paltry amount," Castiel said, ignoring that Dean hadn't finished his sentence but he felt the movement near his own leg and knew the woman had kicked Dean. He decided it was up to Dean to defend himself since they were friends. 

After Ellen pointed out they were talking business again, each of them made an effort to steer away from the topic. Other people joined the table and introductions were made. Every once in a while, when he was talking to the others, Dean felt Cas watching him. Each time he caught him, Cas didn't pull his gaze away as most people would. Instead, he merely smiled, or touched him lightly. Dean wasn't sure he ought to be feeling all warm inside every time it happened, but he damned well couldn't do a thing about it. Anyway, it was a helluvalot better than having his skin crawl at a look or a touch, something that happened often with his street clients. 

Ellen's looks were also disconcerting. He wasn't sure whether she was evaluating the situation or judging him for his actions. Yeah, he didn't like for people that he knew to know he was out there hooking, but at the same time, he didn't or shouldn't give a shit what they thought. It was his body and his life. Course she was close enough to know it was something he wouldn't choose for himself, that he had to be desperate. Okay, he had to stop thinking these circular thoughts or it was gonna drive him crazy. He'd just have to trust that she wouldn't say anything to Bobby or others that he knew. And if she did tell, then he'd roll with it. There were worse things.

A woman walked up to the podium and a hush fell over the crowd. Dean was surprised to hear Castiel was the keynote speaker. Was that why this function was important? Maybe it wasn't the Ellen thing? Dean wasn't sure. A part of him said Castiel was a businessman first, a shark. He'd figured out that Dean knew Ellen and might be using him to soften her up. Another part of him wasn't so sure. The guy was damned confusing. Efficient as hell sometimes, obviously comfortable giving out orders and commanding respect, and yet very naive or innocent at other times. 

As Cas spoke, Dean realized the name of the charity he headed was familiar, that they gave funding to the facility Sam was at. The hunter in him questioned whether that was a pure coincidence. Course when he thought about it, he knew he'd been the one to first seek Castiel out, agreeing to be his waiter. That was what had started the ball rolling. The speech was stirring, though Dean didn't know if it was because of how close he was to the situation, with Sam being in the exact situation Cas was talking about. When the guy returned to his seat, Dean blinked away his tears and hoped there was no sign of how emotional he'd gotten, though his voice was huskier than usual for a short while.

The auction itself was interesting, and once Dean knew what the cause was, he was sure to compliment all of the works of art he'd never have taken a second look at before. He figured that the more they sold for, the better. Later, there was some dancing, but he did manage to get away from Ellen's attempts to get him on the dance floor. He was grateful Cas made no effort to try to get him to dance. 

* * *

As soon as the elevator doors shut and Castiel had pressed the button to get to the penthouse, he grabbed Dean by the lapels and pulled him close, looking into Dean's eyes. "I cancelled the meetings in the morning and set up a private meeting with Mrs. Harvelle at three. You know what that means? No interruptions and the rest of the night, just us. So what would you like to do these next several hours, Dean? I'm fully open to suggestions." 

"We could talk about the weather or..." he licked his lips, his gaze dropping to Castiel's mouth. "Maybe you could work on your e-mails, get some work done. Or..." Taking a few steps, he shoved Cas up against the elevator wall with his body and cupped his face. "I dunno... I could kiss you senseless."

"The last. I like the last choice, I think," Castiel said, licking his own lips in anticipation. "Assuming that is what you truly wish to do." He couldn't help it and began undoing the buttons on Dean's vest. Dean had already unbuttoned the jacket. "This grey tuxedo, it looks very good on you."

"Oh yeah? I have a feeling you think it looks better off me. Cas..." he said thickly, waiting for Cas to look up before slanting his mouth over Castiel's. He swept his tongue inside Castiel's mouth and just like that, need slammed into him full force. Heat flooded his system and his stomach and groin tightened. Pushing one leg between Castiel's, Dean groped and kissed him aggressively, like he never had before. The little touches between them all night long had left him aching for more and now that he could take what he needed, he was damned well doing it.

The way Dean kissed him and touched him had Castiel responding with moans. His hands ran over Dean's back, in between the coat and vest. "I do not...understand...these feelings inside me," he admitted as fire seemed to ignite his very soul. His wings snapped up and out, spreading and curling around the walls of the elevator. The lighting flickered slightly as Castiel pulled Dean up against him. "I want you...naked," Castiel said between kisses.

"Yeah?" He kissed him again. "And what are you gonna do with me... naked?" he asked, his hand gripping Cas' hip and pulling him close. 

"Kiss every part of you. Touch every part of you." Castiel hesitated then as he ran his fingers through Dean's spikey hair. "I have...I have watched movies of men copulating. Is that...is that something you would be interested in showing me?"  
"Copu-whating?" Dean was breathing hard and trying to make sense of what Cas said. "You mean fucking? God I hope you mean fucking..."

"Yes. Fucking," Castiel said.

"That's so much sexier. Yeah, fuck me. I want you to fuck me, Cas," Dean said, grabbing his belt and walking backwards out of the elevator, tugging Cas with him. "Did you hear that?" He blinked, then decided the slight ruffling sound was irrelevant, and kept pulling Cas with him.

"Hear what?" Castiel asked, his gaze locked on Dean. Once he was out of the elevator he stretched his wings but couldn't seem to fold them. Instead his great wings swayed forward and he wanted to wrap his wings around Dean. "I have never copulated...fucked...someone, Dean. You will have to show me how." He found himself once again continuing to unbutton Dean's vest. All he really wanted to do was divest Dean of his clothes with his angelic abilities but he forced himself not to. Human. He had to pretend to be human...

"It's simple. In and out, in and out," Dean whispered, thrusting against Cas, moving around and making it difficult for him to undress him. "Know how my mouth was tight around your cock? My ass is much tighter..." Looking down and seeing Castiel's hand was shaking, he smirked. "I think you know just how it's gonna feel."

Castiel felt his cock swell as Dean was describing it and demonstrating. He groaned at the thought. He turned so he was once again facing Dean. Gripping the vest, he yanked, sending the remaining buttons flying. Gripping the shirt, he did the same thing. "Buttons can be replaced," he murmured, running his hands over Dean's chest. He pulled Dean up against him, holding him firmly as he began to kiss Dean, one hand pressed into Dean's back, the other rubbing Dean's nipple and feeling it grow hard under his touch. 

Cas was usually so careful and fastidious that the way he tore at Dean's new clothes showed Dean how affected Cas was at this moment. His own physical reaction to Castiel's need and to his touches shocked Dean. He found he liked being held hard, loved the contrast between that and how gently Cas was playing with him, touching him, arousing him. When Cas rolled his nipple between his fingers, Dean shuddered, a soft moan slipping past his lips. Moving his mouth against Castiel's, he felt the earth move under his feet. "Oh God... Cas... want you," he whispered, knowing he should be the one eliciting these reactions from Cas.

"I'm here. You have me," Castiel whispered back. "And don't use our Father's name in vain," Castiel scolded him gently. Since he was apparently supposed to be the one to take the lead, he began kissing his way down Dean's jaw. When he reached his neck, he remembered how Dean had sucked on his flesh there. Licking his lips, he lightly gripped a bit of flesh between his teeth, then sucked on it, pressing his wet lips against his lover's neck. As he worked on this, he began pushing Dean's coat, then his vest, and finally his shirt off of his shoulders. He paused and released Dean's neck, surprised by the dark mark left there. As he began unbuckling Dean's pants he asked, "Do you want to fuck my mouth now, or fuck me after I have fucked you?" he asked, dipping his hand down Dean's pants once the belt was loosened.

"Jesus Christ, you want me to decide that now?" Dean groaned, closing his eyes briefly as Castiel squeezed him. Stopping in the door frame, he put his arms out to grip the sides and stop himself from being pushed further. "Just get my clothes off, kiss me all over like you said. Then I'll get myself ready while you undress."

"You shouldn't use Christ's name in vain either," Castiel said as he knelt in front of Dean, unbuttoned his pants, and then looked up at Dean. Keeping his gaze locked on Dean's face, he gripped Dean's waistband, leaned in, and took the zipper in his teeth. He slowly unzipped it, watching for Dean's reaction.

"Holy mother of God!" The sheer intensity of the emotions washing over him at the sight of Castiel on his knees, in his perfectly cut suit, and working him as well as any hooker on the street robbed Dean of the ability to think. 

Castiel released the zipper once he had reached the bottom and shook his head slightly in exasperation at Dean's continual use of God's name that way. He tugged down Dean's pants then pulled down Dean's tented undershorts, revealing the hardened flesh already dripping with pre-cum. He began planting kisses on Dean's abdomen, working lower and lower until he planted a kiss on the tip of Dean's cock, his tongue darting out to catch the bead of cum about to fall.

Hand slipping off the door frame and onto Castiel's shoulders, Dean cursed. "Fuck yeah..." As Cas' hot, wet mouth moved over him, Dean was kept guessing as to where it would touch down next, where it would brand him. Each time he licked or kissed or sucked lightly on his cock, fire raced in Dean's belly. "Oh God... yeah." Obscene moans broke from the back of his throat. His fingers bit into Cas' shoulder, his head sometimes rolling back as intense waves of pleasure crashed into him. He was getting worked up too fast, and he knew it. 

Reluctantly, he dropped down to his own knees and pulled Cas into his arms, kissing him hard, his tongue moving furiously in and out of the guy's mouth as he rubbed his naked body against Cas, his flesh chafing against the material of Cas' suit. As they kissed hungrily, he pushed Cas' jacket off and started on his shirt buttons. Frustrated, he pulled the material in opposite directions, popping the buttons off. Some of them hit the wall before falling to the carpet.

Castiel helped Dean get the shirt and coat off him. The way Dean was rubbing against him was fanning his desire. "I want you...I want...I don't know how to ask or say it," Castiel said, feeling a little frustrated. Yes, he'd seen the movies but he still wasn't sure how to go about copulating with Dean, not really. 

"I think I already said 'yes.'" Dean kissed Castiel's throat, nipping him where the mark he'd thought he'd left last night should have been. He started to get up, pulling Cas with him. "You want to fuck me. You want to be inside me. You want to push me into the mattress, the wall, the floor... or you want me on the sink... that's how you say it," he said, his voice thick and husky as he pulled away. "While you think about that, why don't you get undressed and I'll lube myself, get ready for you."

Taking a few leaden steps through the bedroom to the bathroom, he reached into the drawer and pulled out a tube.

Castiel listened to what Dean said and nodded. He was burning with desire yet he was also a little...scared. He had fought demons, patrolled the edges of Hell, faced the worst of evils...and he was scared of being with a human in a way an angel probably shouldn't be. Anna fell because she disobeyed, and I believe she did it because she loved God and wanted to find a way to bring him back to us, to get closer to Him. I believe she found a way to be truly human and that by being human she could understand Him better. I was exiled for a hundred years to test this theory. Sexual intercourse is something God gave humans so they might procreate, but tied to that is love. When Dean and I have been intimate, I have felt things I have never felt before as an angel. As angels, we love Him who created us and we serve Him. As a human, the same feeling can be there, but so many more as well. I am meant to be human to try to understand, and I cannot if I do not do this...and I want to do this. I want to be with Dean in this way. As he watched Dean walk to the bathroom Cas stood, freeing himself of the rest of his clothes. Maybe...maybe because of the feelings evoked, maybe it was not using God's name in vain when spoken during intercourse. God gave them this gift, and perhaps it was a way to thank God...but God really wasn't in their thoughts when it was occurring...

Giving a frustrated sigh at his confusion of what should and shouldn't be, he decided to simply accept it as being meant to happen. Both of them wanted to be together this way, and maybe he would understand more once they were.

As Dean returned with the lube, Castiel gazed at his beautiful body. "I want to be inside you. I want to experience being with you in a way I have never been with anyone. I want us joined to feel each other in a way that is precious beyond expression of words." Seeing Dean's look he gave slight huff. "I want to fuck you senseless," he finally said.

Just when he was about to give up on getting Castiel to use the right words for sexy times, the guy busted out with something that had fire creeping through Dean's belly. "Say it again," he demanded, his gaze sweeping over every inch of Cas' body, lingering on his erect cock, and meeting his eyes. "Tell me."

Slowly approaching Dean he said, "I. Want. To. Fuck. You. Senseless." After a moment of thought he continued. "I want you to spread your legs for me. I want my hard cock at your orifice...ass. I want to stroke your cock as I push inside you. Then I will thrust...I will fuck you until you are screaming my name and taking the Lord's name in vain countless times. Just when you think it can't feel any better, I will touch you in ways that will make you...crazy with need, and I will fuck you harder still, stroke you harder. When I come inside you, when my seed pours out and fills you, you will find release like you've never found. You will come and come and come again. After this, no one but me will satisfy your need." He bit his bottom lip. "Should I add I will fuck you into the mattress and against the wall? That I want to fuck you halfway between Heaven and Earth?" He had never 'talked dirty' before and he hoped he was doing it right. It seemed to be having the desired effect on Dean.

Cas had him throbbing and burning, wanting so bad it hurt. He pulled Cas into his arms, his hands roving over Cas' body, his ass, molding him close as he rubbed against him. "Drop the word seed. Everything else... fucking perfect." He could barely conceive that an inexperienced man like Cas could make him feel these things, and yet he couldn't deny the firestorm erupting inside him. Welding his mouth to Castiel's, he put all of his feelings, his need and desires into the kiss, tangling his tongue with Cas' as he walked backwards toward the bed.

Their breaths grew harsh and labored as they stumbled toward the bed. Dean ran his fingers up Cas' spine, sucking his breath in at the strange electrical charge that seemed to go through them. It was strong enough to make him break the kiss and meet Cas' eyes. Licking his lips, asking with his eyes, he felt his way up Cas' back again, searching... wanting a repeat of the sexual charge he'd felt through his entire body.

Castiel watched Dean, wanting to feel the man's touch on his wings and yet afraid how Dean would react to the truth. "It's between my shoulder blades, about midway," he said softly, answering the question Dean didn't voice.

Dean cocked his head. His heart skipped a beat at the look in Castiel's eyes. Slowly, he pulled away and walked behind Cas, running his hand up and down his smooth back. Palms flat on his shoulder blades, he leaned in and kissed a line down between them, lingering right at the center. White hot energy surged through him, had every inch of him tingling with desire. Moaning, Dean searched again and again, triggering the strange and wonderful feelings, rubbing his face over the area that seemed to generate them. He didn't understand, he should question, but something dulled his suspicions, something told him this was a gift.

Every time Dean touched where his wings entered the human body, Cas shuddered and moaned. His wings arced up, stretching and straining, as if readying for flight. They fluttered under the attentions of the human. "Holy Father why has thou kept this gift from us?" he asked softly, but knew in his true form it was unlikely he would ever react in such a way. It seemed wholly connected to the arousal of the human host.

The more Dean gave his wings attention, the more he wanted the attention and the more solid his wings became, slipping from the ethereal plane to the physical. "Deannnn...." Castiel keened, beginning to actually feel the weight of his wings as they became less and less shadow.

Sliding his hands up, he hooked them over the edges of Castiel's enormous wings, his inner arms pressing against the attachment point of the wings. "Who are you? What are you?" Dean demanded, trying to clear his mind, trying to fight the fire burning within him and telling himself what he was doing was holding Cas in a wing-lock, thought his body told him otherwise.

Castiel felt his knees weaken as Dean touched his wings, as his forearms pressed against them. He tilted his head back, seeing his snow white wings spread out and up toward the heavens. "I am Castiel, an angel of the Lord, exiled for a hundred years to inhabit a human body in an effort to understand better the human connection with God. I was given the empty vessel of James Novak to use during my penance." Sweeping his wings back, he bracketed Dean's body with them, moving them against Dean's naked form.

"What are you doing?!" Dean demanded, unsure whether the wings closing around him were meant to be a prison. If they were... oh God, all he knew was that each time they brushed against him, sweeping over his back, his ass and the backs of his legs, a thousand points of pleasure skittered over his skin. "Cas, are you telling me the truth?" 

He should be asking his questions with the tip of a dagger at Cas' throat. He should be pouring holy water over him. He should be forcing the truth out of him. And yet, deep down, skeptical as he wanted to be, Dean felt this was the truth. Cas not wanting to take the Lord's name in vain, his giving off priest vibes, his offer to purify a cross, his ability to talk with Claire and not be freaked out, it all seemed to suddenly make sense.

Every time Dean's hands tightened on his wings, pleasure shot through Cas like he had never felt. "Of course I am telling you the truth," he panted. "You know it in your heart I am who I say." Arching his back he added, "I have had my wings touched many times but never before have I felt this."

Unable to argue the point, Dean released his tight hold and instead started to caress and kiss Castiel's wings, stretching his arms up as far as he could and moaning when the tips of the angel's wings grazed his back and thighs. "This?" Dean lowered one hand and reached around Cas' waist, closing his fist around his cock and slowly jacking him. "This isn't very angelic."

Castiel moaned as Dean caressed his wings. When Dean's hand began working him, he groaned loudly, feeling the energy building inside him. He let the energy flow through him, flow through his wings, so that his every pleasure could be experienced by Dean. "N-no. Angels do not copulate. We do not procreate. We do not...fuck."

Pressing back against Dean, his hips began to thrust. Fire burned inside him. His wings snapped forward and he gripped Dean's hand that was jacking him and removed it then turned in Dean's arms. He covered Dean's mouth with his own and his wings swept forward, wrapping around them both, cocooning them in the electric heat of Castiel's desire.

Overloaded by need and pleasure that was not all his own, Dean's mind, his world, stuttered to a stop. There was no fucking way he would admit to blacking out or fainting from pleasure but when he opened his eyes, he was in Castiel's arms, being kissed senseless. As soon as Cas' mouth slipped off his, Dean had something to say. "Well this angel better... fuck. You can't start a fire like this and then stop." Thrusting against Cas, he felt his own pleasure echoed by Castiel's. "I feel you. I... Is this real?" he asked, running his hands all over Cas' body and making sure to repeatedly touch his wings. They were so soft and silky and warm, like nothing he'd ever touched before. 

"Real. Yes. My wings...are the only part of my divine essence...not readily contained by this human body. They can be a conduit if I so choose, a conduit to myself, or even the universe. Would you like to feel the universe? It can be but a moment for your human mind could not deal with more." He continued to move his hands over Dean's body just as he slid his wings over it, feeling Dean as readily as Dean felt him. 

"Hit me." Dean agreed, unsure if he could take more, but curious as hell.

Castiel smiled, closed his eyes and tilted his head back. For a split second he was everywhere at once. He was in Heaven, feeling the joys of all who were there. He was in Hell, feeling the pleasure of the demons and the pain of the tortured. He felt the tears of a child who had lost his favorite stuffed animal, felt the passionate kiss of lovers under a starlit sky. He ran with the wolves and flew with the hawk. He was the sun, burning hotly, he was the planets orbiting the sun. He was the galaxy filled with stars and planets being born, dying, he was the universe, feeling it all for one brief moment...and then he was once again Castiel, holding Dean in his arms and watching him, desire plain in his eyes.

It was like a freight train rushing straight through him, inundating him with information, images and emotions. Up and down, good and bad, pleasure and pain. He could see, feel and taste it all, know it on levels he didn't know existed nor could he describe. It was like the world's highest, fastest, scariest, most thrilling rollercoaster times a hundred. If Cas hadn't been holding him, Dean would have hit the ground hard. His legs were shaky, his breaths coming fast. Then the alien feelings were chased out of him, leaving him only with the heat of their joint desire. 

Winding his arm around Cas' neck, he kissed his way up his throat, nibbled on his jaw, and then slanted his mouth over Castiel's. The kiss was as fierce and intense as the feelings storming inside Dean. He used his body to push Cas back, to the bed. When he reached it, he put his palms on Cas' chest, felt him out, then shoved him down onto the bed. His gaze traveled slowly up the length of Castiel's body and his milky white wings spread wide across the contrasting dark burgundy duvet cover, his entire body shuddering in response to the surge of desire. "So fucking beautiful," he said, for the first time meaning it when he said it to a guy.

Slowly, he got on the bed, straddling Castiel's hips and rubbing his ass over Cas' already rock hard cock. Their gazes locked. He dropped forward, caressing Cas' chest with one hand, and grasping his cock with the other. Getting up on his knees slightly, he aligned himself and slowly started to sit down, biting his lip and throwing his head back at the initial pain. 

Castiel watched Dean and when he saw there was pain as Dean lowered himself onto his cock, he touched Dean's arm, erasing that initial spike of pain, even as his wings fluttered and he moaned, feeling his cock encased in a silky heat like he had never felt. "By all that is holy," Castiel whispered, staring at Dean, feeling a strange sensation in his chest. "I have felt the peace of Heaven, felt the power of God work through me as I have fought evil, felt love for my brethren and for God and yet this is like none of those and all of those. It is a faint shadow of them, but it is a shadow of them all the same. This cannot be merely having sex, for I feel something inside me that says it is more." He groaned as Dean continued to slide down on his cock and Castiel's wings beat once, twice, then curled up to touch Dean's back.

As Dean clenched his muscles around Cas, he smiled at what sounded decidedly like a long winded compliment. "I don't know Cas, but that sounds mighty close to blasphemy," he said. Then the wing tips caressed him and he lost his smug smile, writhing instead with pleasure. "That is not a fair way to shut someone up." Despite his words, Dean started to move in slow, circular motions, lifting and lowering his body ever so slightly. Being connected, feeling everything Castiel felt made it both easier and more difficult. He knew just how to ratchet up the heat and wind Cas up, but the feedback of Cas' feelings drove him crazy with need.

"It is truth and truth cannot be blasphemy," Castiel managed to get out. His hips began to lift and thrust as Dean worked him. "Feels good, Dean, feels good," he murmured. He remembered then that Dean liked vulgar words. "Fuck me harder. Fuck me until I melt, until you feel me come deep inside your ass."

"Dude, you're the one who's fucking me," Dean barely managed before he was swept away by the searing heat sweeping through him each time Cas thrust his cock deeper inside him. "Yeah, oh God... oh fuck," he closed his eyes and rocked harder, alternately raising up and driving his ass back down over Cas' hips. Between Cas' wings brushing against his skin and the hot charges that went through him, Dean was lost in a haze of lust and need. He moved on instinct, grinding and rocking, sometimes dropping down over Cas to claim a kiss, sometimes nipping him hard and hissing when he felt the pain himself. It went on and on, like he was trapped in a fever or some sort of loop, pleasure rising and ebbing, driving him close to the edge but never letting him fall off. 

He started to jack himself, giving a deep wanton moan when Cas took over. So good, it was so good. Endless, boundless, like the universe. He knew he was whispering things, things that might be incoherent. He heard Cas answering but didn't quite understand what he was saying. It was enough that they were connected body and mind, maybe even at soul level. Dean climbed higher and higher, and when he thought he could climb no higher, he was proven wrong. Suddenly, he stopped. 

"Want you on top," Dean said, pulling off Cas with a groan and dropping down on the bed next to him, finding Cas looming over him even before he hit the mattress.

As soon as Dean pulled off, Castiel echoed Dean's groan. He had felt, had heard Dean's need. No sooner was Dean settled onto the bed than Castiel let his wings lift him and settled between Dean's legs. Lifting Dean's legs he aligned his cock and pushed in. He rested inside Dean as he kissed him and caressed him with loving care, his wings spread above them both. 

Through heavy lidded eyes, between kisses, Dean caught glimpses of Castiel in his full angelic glory, looking much like an avenging angel. Only his touches didn't match the severity of his expression. This was no march toward release. Instead, Cas was kissing him within an inch of his life, whispering in his ear, sucking on the soft flesh of his throat. Running his hands all over his body, mapping him out like they had all the time in the world. Making love to him, when he shouldn't be. "Cas..." Dean reached up and found the place between his shoulders, rubbed his thumb up and down, his head rocking back into the pillow as a strong jolt went through him.

Castiel reacted just as strongly as Dean when Dean touched him between his wings, crying out in pleasure. He felt his cock throb in response as well, Dean clenching when the jolt passed through them. Castiel began to thrust, just a slow steady pace. He felt his cock rub over a small nub inside Dean and Dean reacted almost as strongly as when he had touched Castiel between his wings. Feeling the pleasure mirrored back to him, Castiel began to experiment, changing his pace, angling his thrusts, seeking to hit that spot again and again. "Strange place for wings," Castiel teased him.  
"Heh." Lifting his legs a little, Dean locked his ankles behind Cas' back and pulled him closer as he lifted up. "Ride me harder. Fuck me," he said, eyes locked with Cas'.

Castiel nodded and began to thrust faster and harder, having to be careful not to use any of his angelic strength. He worked his wings as he thrust and pulled out, wrapping his arms under Dean and behind his back, supporting Dean as sometimes his wings lifted them both up and off the bed. He brushed over Dean's legs that were wrapped around him with his wings, sending pleasure shooting up Dean's muscles. He sensed it still wasn't enough and fucked into Dean harder and harder, rubbing his stomach along Dean's cock, giving it pressure.

So much. So much emotion, so much desire, so many feelings he had no names for. It was all so beautiful and intense. Dean managed to touch between Cas' wings again and this time Castiel couldn't hold back. He gave a shout of ecstasy as his balls tightened and he came, filling Dean. Lights in the bedroom and bathroom erupted in a shower of glass and sparks and Castiel felt the electricity ripple along his wings and writhe along the ceiling. The lights in the living room went dark and Castiel knew he had just knocked out the power within a few blocks of the hotel.

Dean's blood roared in his ears. Each powerful thrust of Castiel's hips had wound the tension in his belly tighter and tighter, until it was almost painful. With Castiel's explosive release came a searing heat, ripping through Dean, unraveling that tight knot. "Castiel!" he shouted hoarsely, lifting up off the mattress and grinding against Cas' belly, thick ropes of cum spreading across both their stomachs. "Oh God...oh my fucking God," he whispered over and over, drawing Cas in and out of him using his legs, clenching his ass each time he lowered his body to the bed, milking Cas. "Damn, I think I love--" Love? No, that wasn't a word he used. He licked his lips and tried to catch his breath, still tugging on Cas, though he dropped his legs down. "That wasn't a ghost. All the lights," he said a little tiredly. 

Castiel settled on top of Dean, kissing him intensely. When he finally let Dean breathe he gave a shake of his head. "No, no ghost. It is you affecting me and making me lose control of my abilities. Power is out within a few blocks this time I fear. At least it wasn't the entire city." He gave a soft sigh of contentment and pulled his wings in, they fading away, back to the ethereal plane. "That was wonderful Dean. Thank you."

Dean insistently touched the area between Cas' shoulder blades, got a glimpse of his wings once more, then dropped his hand down to Cas' ass, smiling in satisfaction. "A couple blocks, huh? Alright, we'll try for the whole city. Give me ten minutes then I'll have you thanking me again." Lifting his head, he kissed Cas deeply. "All night long we said, and it's been only..." he turned his head to look at the clock and exclaimed, "holy sh...cra... whoa... hours. Mr. Novak, I don't think you have any reason to ever have performance anxieties." Drawing Cas down, he rolled, reversing their positions. "Against the wall sex is good... very good." Chuckling at the expression on Cas' face, he nuzzled his neck, found a spot right above his collar bone, and sucked a bruise into it. "Was wondering why my mark faded so fast," he muttered.  
The rest of the night was a haze of tangled limbs, kisses, groans and shouts of each other’s names. It was almost morning and Dean was on his side, with Cas spooning behind him, holding him. "Gonna ask you a question, Cas. In the morning," he said, closing his eyes.

"It is morning. Ask me now," Castiel said, nuzzling Dean's neck. He was surprised to discover he was actually a little tired. He wouldn't sleep, but he would meditate if he could keep his mind focused properly after such a night of pleasure.

"Too sleepy. I won't forget," Dean mumbled. He needed to be able to think straight before he asked Castiel to heal Sam, or figured out what it would take to make an angel do that. If he could.

Castiel held Dean close. "Yes. You likely will," he said softly. He closed his eyes and concentrated, lightly touching Dean's forehead, removing Dean's discovery that he was an angel from the human's mind. He left the memories of the very good sex but modified them so Dean would have no recollection of the angelic aspects of their intercourse. Dean would just recall it was a night of extreme pleasure, for Castiel did not want to take those memories from him.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late morning when Dean awoke. He was surprised to find Cas still holding him since Cas seemed wide awake. Dean bet that this went against the man's routine of immediately getting up, dressed and starting work, the workaholic that he seemed to be. Rolling in his arms, he'd kissed Castiel and they'd taken a shower together. They'd made love... had sex again. He wished he hadn't drank so much because there were some holes in what he remembered, but from what he did remember, hell, he was surprised the hotel hadn't gone up in flames.

Because Cas asked him along to the meeting, Dean got into a suit. Before they left, he asked what was going on when a team of hotel workers came up and started replacing bulbs. His first thought was Claire had been back, but the workers said there had been an electrical surge that effected several neighborhoods. Dean had never heard anything like that before but Cas rushed him out to have breakfast at the hotel restaurant.

When it turned out that the meeting was at Philip Stuckey's firm, Dean wasn't too happy. Still, at ten thousand dollars a day, he knew he had no right to make demands. So long as this Philip character kept away from him, it would be fine. During the day, the guy did toss a few subtle digs at him now and then. Dean mostly ignored him, though he embarrassed him once in front of his boss or partner or whatever. The two meetings he sat in on were enough to show him Cas had a sharp mind. The questions he asked of the people giving him reports on various companies sometimes stumped them or had them excited as they were presented with a new and exciting idea. Well, exciting for nerds, not so much for Dean. He also noticed that any questions that Castiel asked that dealt with personnel or human issues were shrugged off, with Cas being told someone else would take care of them, that he shouldn't waste his time on those minor matters. 

Later, he was mostly silent at the meeting with Ellen. From what he understood, Cas was very hot to get her company. He felt that the company was going under and that he could save it. Yet the answer he'd given when Ellen pointed out that he wasn't known for saving companies, but for breaking them up to get the most profit from the sales, hadn't really satisfied him. Or Ellen, it seemed, because during a break, she'd pulled him aside and asked what he thought. Dean felt Cas' eyes on him. The pressure to side with the man was incredible. Eventually, all he told her was that he didn't know Castiel well, and he didn't know much about business. He really had no advice for her. Then she asked if Castiel had brought him along as a way to get her to agree, familiar faces and all. Dean shook his head and told her he didn't know. The thought had crossed his mind, just as it had when they'd gone to the fundraiser and Ellen had also been invited. 

Cas had cut him loose but told him they were going to drinks and dinner later. Back at the hotel, Dean called Sam a few times, until he got the timing right and Sam wasn't at therapy and he had a nurse with him to bring the phone over and hit the speaker button. It was a short, mostly one sided conversation, but just hearing Sam's voice made him feel better and a little less guilty about living the high life here while his brother was struggling with things he used to be able to do without much thought.

In the evening, when they'd gone to dinner, Dean was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't another event with a bunch of stuffed shirts. It wasn't even a stuffy restaurant that they'd gone to. Instead, they ate at a sports bar and grill, which Castiel admitted had been recommended by Bernard. Dean, in turn admitted that the hotel manager seemed less irritating to him now. They'd watched ball games on the various screens around the restaurant, even shouted with the crowd at the bar when some scores were made. When Castiel said he'd take Dean to a game which they both knew was in a few weeks, in another state, Dean merely grinned. He knew damned well once Cas went back home, he'd never see him again. Yet the thought gave him an unsettled feeling inside his stomach. His mind kept asking 'what if' questions and he just couldn't stop them, especially in those moments when Cas was so attentive that it was hard to remember this wasn't real, that this was just a job.

They'd enjoyed themselves so much that they hung out at the bar some and left quite late. Dean was driving Cas' car again and having fun putting it through its paces when his phone started to vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the screen and immediately put it to his ear. "Did something happen?" he asked before the person on the other end even had a chance to speak. "Is Sammy alright? What... okay." Fuck, he mouthed as he listened. "No, I'll be there."   
Dropping the phone onto his lap, Dean made a U-turn in the middle of the large street and gunned the car. "You mind a detour?" he asked in a clipped tone, hoping to hell he wouldn't have to go all the way to the hotel to get his own car.

"Of course not," Castiel said. "If you need to stay with 'Sammy' tonight instead of returning to the hotel, I have no issue with that. Is Sammy your son?"

"No." Dean took a breath, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "He had a seizure. It's happened before. I just... I need to see for myself." Checking the mirrors, he switched lanes, maneuvered through some slower traffic, and then got onto the freeway. There was a long silence. Dean finally broke it. "We were hunting some thing. I got a lead and was supposed to pick Sam up. They got to him first," he said bitterly. "If I'd gotten there two minutes earlier. Or if I'd kept him on the phone and hadn't told him to wait outside--" Abruptly crossing three lanes he drove faster, not caring that the speedometer needle was pushing up way beyond the speed limit.

"You cannot blame yourself," Castiel said. "For whatever reason, it may well have been fated to be and Fate will not be thwarted in such a case. You could not have known that this time would be different, that this time it was not safe for him to be outside, or that two minutes would make a difference. What is, is," he said. "If you would like, I can stay with you all night. If it would make him feel more reassured, or you feel reassured, I truly do not mind. How far away is he?" 

"In this car? Not far." His mind was too much of a mess for him to decide anything. He figured if he was staying with Sam, then Cas could drive back and he'd make it up to Cas. At least Cas wasn't making an issue of it. He stole a glance at the guy and knew how lucky he was that the guy was taking it in stride. 

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into St. Raphael's parking lot and got out. As they walked up toward the main building, he hit the button on the small control, locking the car and setting the alarm, then passed the keys to Castiel. Inside, he asked at the front desk whether Sam had been transferred to the hospital, but was told no, he was stable and would stay at the facility's private floor of patient rooms. Breathing a sigh of relief, he nodded toward the elevator.

They stepped out of the elevator and Dean lengthened his stride, forgetting about everything but his need to see Sam. The door to his hospital room was open, and Dean walked through, slowing down as he got near the bed. All sorts of monitoring equipment were attached to Sam, and he was lying on his back, perfectly still. "Sam?" Dean reached for his brother's hand and closed his eyes when he felt it was warm. "You scared the hell out of me," he whispered, unsure Sam could hear him.

Sam slowly opened his eyes and smiled at his brother. He tried to squeeze Dean's hand, but after a seizure, it often seemed as if it was two steps forward and one step back, losing some of the progress he'd made. They said it wasn't unexpected as the brain was trying to use new areas to perform tasks it hadn't originally been 'wired' to perform.  
"O-k," Sam finally got out, trying to ease Dean's mind. He saw the man with Dean and realized Dean was in a very expensive suit, as was the man who was with him. He gave Dean a questioning looking, then flicked his eyes to the stranger. 

"Okay." Dean repeated the word but disagreed. Seeing Sam in the hospital bed brought back memories of the first days when he'd been hospitalized and it had been like a death watch. "This is Castiel, my ah... boss." He glanced at Cas'  
profile. "My brother. Sam," he said, still reluctant to share too much of himself. "I was in Cas' car when they called." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sam," Castiel said, approaching the bed. "Your brother has been very helpful to me. He's a fine man."

Sam nodded and looked at Dean, pride in his eyes. "Yeah. Be-est." Sam struggled to say and hoped it was clear. He glanced at Dean then at the chair near the bed, then back at Dean.

"I think he wants you to stay," Castiel said. "Sit. I'll get us some coffee."

"Pep," Sam asked of Dean hopefully.

"I'll check with the nurse and see if you're allowed to have it," Castiel said as he left the room.

Dean rushed to the door. "Cas, he means Dr. Pepper, not Pepsi. Thanks," he said at Castiel's nod, then returned to Sam's side. "So, tell the truth. Night nurse, she hot?" He waggled his brows.

Sam rolled his eyes and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "He," Sam said then asked, "Casss. Coolll?" 

"No, I wouldn't call him cool. He's... different, but okay. A good guy, I think," he added, feeling a little awkward trying to describe the man he was sleeping with for money. In that moment, he realized Cas never made him feel like a hooker. The only people who did that were himself, and others, but never Cas. "Yeah, he's cool in the nerdy, sometimes awkward way. In fact, you guys would be best friends," he added, making a silly expression.

"No...re-place...meee," Sam said, obviously teasing Dean.

"Don't say that, not even as a joke." Dean gave Sam a look, then relented, smiling slightly. "You're gonna get better and we're gonna be back in the car, hunting things. I know it, Sam, in my gut, I know it. It'll take time, but we'll get there, I swear we will." He brushed Sam's hair off his forehead. "Next to Dad, you're the most stubborn sonovabitch I've ever met. If anyone can do it, it's you."

Sam nodded and tried to look as confident as Dean sounded, but at the moment he was frustrated and tired, and that determination was wavering.

Cas walked in with three cups. "The nurse said you weren't allowed more than a quarter of a can and refused to let me bring the can in here, but he filled a cup with what you could have, and apparently I am not to tell the doctor that you had it. Dean, I assume you wanted your coffee black?"

Surprised that Cas knew that, Dean nodded. On the bed table, there was water and straws. He dropped one into the cup Cas had brought and reached down to raise Sam's bed so he was in more of a sitting position. "For someone who is into healthy food, like salads and alfalfa sprouts" he rolled his eyes, "it sure is weird how much you like this stuff." As he got the straw to Sam's mouth, he looked over at Cas. "Did they tell you when the doctor would be in to speak with us?"

Sam gave a slight shrug, the biggest he could manage, and smirked at his brother as he sipped on the drink.

Castiel settled into a chair. "No, apparently the neuro-surgeon is having a busy night. It will likely be three or four hours at the earliest. I asked the nurse to provide us with a bed so if either of us needs sleep, it's available to us."

Dean's gaze followed Cas. "You know, you don't have to stay. I mean it really could be all night."

"I don't mind, but if you would prefer I leave, I will. I am here to support you in whatever fashion you have need. I could retrieve pizza or hamburgers or tacos if you would like as well. I'm at your service," Castiel said, then giving Sam a slight smile he added, "He is stubborn you know."

Sam laughed silently and nodded.

"Funny. Both of you." Setting Sam's cup down, Dean went and got his own coffee from the table next to Cas and drawing a chair closer to Sam, sat down. He asked if Sam wanted the TV on, and when his brother said no, he slipped into their routine, telling him about his day. As usual, he edited the events to suit himself, make things funnier or more outrageous. Wanting Castiel to realize Sam thought he'd been hired to give advice regarding Castiel's supposed classic car collection, he wove in some stories about the cars and how he'd been dragged into boring office meetings. His description of Philip made the lawyer sound like an utter buffoon and drew a smile from Sam. He thought he heard a chuckle from Cas, but when he turned, all he saw was Cas' usual 'serious face.'

"He has promised to teach me how to drive a manual transmission," Castiel told Sam. "Though with the way he drives my regular car, perhaps I should be concerned." After a pause Castiel said, "This body suffered a grave accident and was in a coma for a few months. When I awoke, I had complete amnesia as to James Novak's life. Hence I have many cars that I can't even drive because I don't know how to drive a manual. I'm not that skilled a driver anyhow. And I think your brother enjoys driving my very expensive car very fast."

Sam smiled at Castiel and nodded in agreement then yawned. He smiled at Dean, his eyelids beginning to droop. "Love."

"You'd better be talking about the car," Dean said mock-gruffly to Sam, shaking his head. He didn't even have to mention his aversion to chick flick moments, Sam would get it. "Night Sammy." He smiled as his brother's eyes closed and he relaxed into sleep. Slowly, he lowered the bed down, pushed the tray table out of the way, and sat back down. Pushing his chair back, he joined Cas and drank some of his now cool coffee. They talked for a while. Though Dean tried to steer the conversation away from personal things, stories about himself and Sam and how they'd pretty much taken care of each other growing up kept slipping in. He'd never had trouble keeping private things private. This made him a little wary. Made him question whether this was just a job or was something else brewing? 

*

Castiel watched Dean drowse off and without disturbing him, used his angelic abilities to lift Dean into the extra bed so he could stretch out and sleep comfortably. Making certain Dean stayed asleep, he stroked the man's face, brushing some errant locks from his forehead. He liked Dean in a way he couldn't define or put words to. He glanced back at Dean's brother. The man would eventually heal, would eventually be able to walk and regain some of his speech, but he would never be as he was, no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much therapy he did. He would regain self-sufficiency but not much more.

He paced restlessly, his eyes coming back to Sam again and again. He could heal the man, but it would be hailed as a 'miracle' and that wasn't something he could have happen. He also had no idea how healing the man would affect both of their fates. Of course, if Fate did have a plan for Sam, then something else would happen to correct the situation. Perhaps Castiel was part of Fate's plan, for all he knew.

The seizure. He could heal Sam limitedly and the doctors could say the seizure somehow helped sort out some of his difficulties. Castiel gently took Sam's face between his hands and looked deep inside. He found that Sam would have a stroke in the not too distant future if damage wasn't repaired. Closing his eyes, he prayed silently, his wings spreading out though staying invisible. He repaired the area that would have caused the stroke and did other small repairs here and there. Sam would soon be able to talk better, walk better, and have better motor control. He wasn't healed by any stretch, but it would help. Sometimes a little help, an improvement, could give hope when hope was being lost and, it could return determination where doubt was beginning to take hold.

Dean opened his eyes and winced at the sudden brightness that surrounded the figure next to Sam. Jackknifing up and blinking, he saw it was Cas and there was only a little brightness, from the light bar above Sam's bed. "What time is it, and what are you doing?" he asked, trying to remember getting onto the cot or pulling the blanket over himself.

"I was talking to him, trying to make things easier for him. He was dreaming," Castiel said, running his hand over Sam's forehead and brushing away the long bangs. "It's almost five a.m." 

"Did you stay up all night?" He got up and stretched, eyeing Cas with Sam, his gentle, if maybe too familiar, gesture.  
"I rested a few hours," Castiel said with a shrug and turned from Sam, looking Dean over and giving him a knowing smile. "You have completely rumpled your suit...I like it."

Looking down at himself, Dean made a face, then felt his cheeks warm. No fucking way. He was not blushing. 

"The nurse told me Sam's regular neurologist just finished surgery an hour ago. He's asked Dr. Martinez to evaluate Sam's condition since the seizure. Dr. Martinez will be in at six. Would you like to get breakfast? There is a small twenty four hour cafe not five minutes from here. Sam is sound asleep and we could bring him back a cinnamon roll or croissant and a latte."

Stretching one more time and looking down at Sam's peaceful expression, he nodded. "He'll be happy with the latte, he likes fluffy things." Chuckling, he reached for his jacket and searched Cas' face, then looked him up and down. Once they were outside, he muttered. "You're completely unrumpled and that's just... frustrating."

"Maybe I wanted to give you the chance to get me rumpled later," Castiel said, giving Dean a sidelong look, and handing the keys back to him.

"Yeah?" Dean grinned. "You've started to get flirty. I like it." Unlocking the doors, he walked around to the driver's seat and still wore his smile when Cas got in. He knew exactly where the cafe was and figured Cas had googled nearby places on his phone. 

"Flirty? What is flirty?" Castiel asked as he slid into the passenger's seat and buckled his seat belt.

"Seriously?" Unable to tell whether Cas was joking, Dean answered, "it's ah... you know, playing around, being kind of suggestive and maybe trying to charm your way into someone's skirt or pants. Come on, you know what it means," he said, unable to come up with a better definition.

Castiel chuckled. "Yes. I know what it means. I just wanted to see how you defined it. So am I trying to charm my way into your pants? Is it working?" He grinned at Dean, his eyes bright. 

"I don't know Cas, why don't you try putting your hand in my pants?" He started the car, leaned over and kissed Castiel on the lips. "Yeah, you bet it's working."

Reaching over between Dean's legs, Cas ran his hand up Dean's inner thigh until he found Dean's cock, rubbing it a few times. "I wouldn't want you talking to Sam's doctor with a wet spot on your pants. I'll pick up the offer when we leave. His hand went to Dean's cheek and turned Dean's head towards him. Leaning in, he gave Dean a passionate kiss. "That's a promise."

"Mmm, and now you're a tease." Kissing one last time, Dean added, "And I'm gonna get you rumpled. That's a promise."

* * *

After the neurosurgeon told them that Sam would be alright but that he was being kept in the hospital area of the facility for another few days for observation, Dean left with Castiel. At the hotel, they each met the promises they'd made. Later, when they left again, Bernard caught them in the lobby and asked whether he should send someone up to launder or press their suits. Dean had started to ask how he knew, but Castiel had merely agreed and tugged Dean to the door.   
Though Cas said Dean didn't have to stay at the meetings, after Castiel had kept him company all night, Dean felt he ought to do the same. He wasn't inside the conference room all the time though. He went to stretch his legs and walked around a bit. Then he did the unthinkable. He bought a present for a client. He bought something for Castiel.

The meetings ran long as Castiel dealt with more than just trying to purchase Ellen's business. Ellen's business was a sticking point even among his own people until Castiel finally slammed his laptop on the conference table and made it perfectly clear that he intended to purchase Ellen Harvelle's business, or at least become a silent partner in it, even if it was not profitable. When he asked about another business deal, it was confirmed everything had gone as planned, Castiel had the majority shares in it and could start breaking it apart and selling it off a piece at a time. When he again asked about the personnel working for the companies and was told it would be handled, he looked at Dean, then back at his employees and told them he would let Dean start deciding whether or not they had a job on the morrow if they didn't have details provided to him by then. With that, he took hold of Dean's wrist and guided him out of the board room.  
"Let's go get dinner someplace nice and private. How does the balcony of the penthouse sound?" Castiel asked as they waited for the elevator.

"I love it when you're forceful," Dean joked, though he was surprised by the turn of events. "Sounds like a date. I mean, sounds good."

"It can be a date, if you'd like," Castiel said, running his hand along Dean's arm. "I have never been on a date, not really, except for this week with you." 

"Date. Sure. You, me and your other sweetheart, the lap top?" Dean raised a brow. "You need a name for her." It was ridiculous that his heart was beating faster. Seriously ridiculous. Pulling his gaze away, he stepped inside the elevator. If he wasn't careful, he wasn't gonna come out of this job able to just put it behind him, like he usually did. That thought scared him, but when he stole a glance at Castiel, he knew he wasn't going to change things or protect himself more than he had. For the first time in a long time, he was having a good time. Somewhat strange, but good. Real good.

"Why would my laptop be female and why should I name it?" Castiel asked, then his brow furrowed. "Do you have a name for your car?"

"Yeah, she's my baby, so that makes her name - Baby. And there doesn't always have to be a logical reason for doing something, sometimes you do things for kicks, or just because." They got out of the elevator into the underground parking lot and waited for the valet to bring the car.

"...Then I will name my laptop Anna," Castiel said firmly. Seeing Dean's questioning look he answered, "She is the reason I am here today. It just seems right. So what would you like for dinner?"

"Seeing as my appetizer and my dessert are standing next to me, I guess I'll have to look at the menu to see what I want for a main course." He winked at Cas, took care of the tip himself and got into the car. Seeing Cas standing out there, working out what he said, he laughed and gave a playful honk and yelled for him to get his ass in the car.

* * *

During the drive to the hotel, Dean had flirted like crazy, dropping double entendres, graphically describing all the ways he wanted to have Castiel, and then calling it 'verbal copulation' right before he got out of the car. He'd been laughing hard, but when Cas stepped out of the car, he looked like he was anything but amused. Dean had no clue what was going through the guy's mind, not until the elevator door closed and Cas was on him, kissing the hell out of him. Maybe the word copulation was sexy, after all.

They made love. Yeah, Cas kept calling it that and not sex, and Dean finally capitulated. Then they ate on the balcony. There had been candlelight and flowers and soft music. Dean asked the waiter who came up to serve them to take a picture of them together. He wouldn't leave it on his phone, and he'd make damned sure Sam didn't get a look at it because anyone who saw it would instantly know what was going on between himself and Cas.

It had gotten cool outside, so they'd taken their dessert inside. Dean had insisted they change and had his old comfortable jeans on. His comment that they were hole-y had earned him a glare and that amused him to no end. Castiel was in loose cotton leisure pants. Neither of them had their tops on. Dean lay with his head in Castiel's lap as he channel surfed and found stuff for them to watch. "Cas, I got something for you. And no, I don't mean that." 

Castiel was silent a moment. "You being here is sufficient. You needn't have gotten something for me." He had never received a present before so he wasn't quite sure how to react. When he had purchased the clothes and watch for Dean, it was to help Dean perhaps find a job more to his liking. If not, then he could sell them all back and make a nice sum of extra cash to help him--help his brother.

"I know, I wanted to. But if you keep that up, I might get too lazy to go get it," he said, enjoying the feel of Cas running his hand through his hair and alternately massaging his shoulders lightly.

After another long moment of thought Castiel said. "Hmmm, perhaps I should be too lazy to make love to you again tonight then."

Dean was about to agree with whatever Cas said until the words registered. Turning around, he laid an open mouthed kiss low on Cas' belly, lingering for a moment, then sat up. "Just try it," he warned. "I've got some tricks you haven't seen yet."

Castiel laughed. "I look forward to seeing these new tricks." He ran his fingers up the back of Dean's spine, letting just a hint of his desire spark across his fingers. He smiled when he felt Dean shudder under his touch.

"Wicked." Stealing a kiss, Dean got up and headed for the room, though he looked over his shoulder and gave Cas a  
heated look. Two could play that game. 

Castiel squirmed, feeling his cock begin to harden a little. "How is it that all you have to do is look at me and my cock seems to gain a mind of its own?" Hearing Dean's laughter, he scowled in his general direction. Shortly after, Dean returned with a bag in his hand.

"Thank you, Dean. I'm certain I'll like whatever you've gotten me." Silently Cas hoped it wasn't that lamp with the hula girl that Dean had pointed out when they were window shopping near the bar. 

"You're a hard man to buy presents for," Dean said climbing onto the sofa and slightly pushing Cas forward so he could sit on the back of the sofa, his legs straddling Castiel's back. "Ignore me, I'm just here to show you how it works," he said, making it completely impossible to ignore him by folding one leg around Cas so his bare foot rested on the sofa between Cas' thighs. One slight movement and his ankle brushed against Cas' cock. "Here," he passed the small wrapped gift box to Cas and leaned in to watch him open it.

Groaning softly at the way Dean pressed against him, Castiel found it hard to focus. "You keep that up and I'll be unwrapping you instead of this box." Castiel examined the package then began to open it, being careful not to tear the paper as he did. Opening the box he pulled out the electronic device inside and studied it. Finding the power button he turned it on.

Kissing the side of Castiel's neck and sliding his hands down his shoulders and arms, Dean waited for the ultra-thin device which could be attached to a key chain to power up. "You can slide it open so it's longer. Longer is always good," he said, pressing his cock suggestively against Cas' back. "So, you know how you've always got your nose in a book, or are reading on the internet or your phone? This mini-reader can carry a few books and it can read them to you if you're busy driving or whatever. I loaded it with two things that I think are very you, and maybe one of them will remind you of me, you know, next week when... when you go back to New York."

Castiel arched against Dean's cock. It was so close to where his wings were, his breath hissed between his teeth. New York...yes he would be returning to New York soon...but the thought of leaving Dean did not sit well with him. Focusing on the present Castiel went to the main menu and the first title was "The Bible." He smiled and nodded. The second book was based on some of the principles of kama sutra. His brow furrowed and he clicked forward to open the book. His jaw fell open as he opened it to a random page. "This...uh, yes...reminds of you." Castiel stammered, but couldn't pull his eyes away as he paged forward. Tilting his head at one image he murmured, “That can't be pleasurable.”  
"Actually..." Dean tilted his head too, then shook his head, agreeing with Cas it was an impossible position. "So I, ah, figured you kind of go from angelic mode to devilish in like sixty seconds so you've got both of these in here. Check out page 24. Aren't the graphics incredible?" Sliding his hand under Castiel's jaw, he leaned in again and started to kiss the hell out of his neck. He didn't stop there, he used his heel to lightly massage Cas' cock, moaning as he felt it harden, and slowly rocked against Cas' back, getting some pressure himself. 

"Nngh," Castiel groaned, "Thank you...Dean," Castiel said, feeling Dean rock against his back as his own hips thrust and worked forward to get more pressure. "Maybe...maybe I can stay...a few extra days," Castiel suggested. "Would...would you like me to?" 

Something tugged at Dean's heart. Hard. He tried to deny it by redoubling his efforts to get Cas so turned on they'd have another all nighter. "Concentrate Cas...page twenty four."

"Page twenty four, right," Castiel said, moving to the designated page. After looking at it a moment he nodded. "I want to be the one...on the bottom."

"Okay," Dean breathed out. He hadn't expected that. "You might hurt tomorrow, you're not used to having a di... to being penetrated. You have meetings."

"The pleasure should be shared. And I doubt I will hurt. If I do, then, I do. I want to experience everything with you. As much as is possible. Besides I am certain if someone asks and I tell them it was because of the copulation--hot sex--I had with you, no one will ask again." He gave a smirk. "Though Philip might well have an aneurysm."

"I'm all for giving Phil an aneurysm. Kiss me," he leaned forward and brought his mouth over Castiel's, kissing him deeply, touching him, loving how he shuddered when Dean started to practically hump his back. Very quickly, he was in the throes of lust, yet he noticed the lights flickered. "The hell... place needs to be rewired," he said, shrugging off the thought that it could be Claire. Yeah, that was not a good thought at all at this moment.

Castiel shifted, wanting to feel Dean thrusting against the space between his wings. He groaned loudly and locked down his abilities. He didn't want to blow out the power again. He also didn't want to have to erase Dean's memory again, so Dean couldn't find out he was an angel...even if Castiel sort of wanted him to.

"Like that, huh?" Dean whispered hotly into Cas' ear and thrust against him a few more times before sliding down off the back off the sofa and straddling Cas' thighs. On his knees, he started to unbutton his jeans, swaying forward so his straining cock brushed against Cas' jaw. "Fuck..."

"Yes, like that," Cas whispered back, groaning in disappointment when Dean moved away from his back. Once Dean was settled in front of him, he steadied Dean's hips while Dean continued to work on freeing his hard cock, Castiel running his hands up and down Dean's sides periodically.

Pulling his cock out, Dean locked gazes with Castiel and started to stroke himself. He moved his hips in circular motions, sometimes lowering almost on top of Cas' thighs and sometimes brushing against his chest ever so lightly. He moaned and whispered about how hard he was and how he couldn’t wait to be inside Cas' tight ass, that he was going to fuck Cas senseless, teasing Cas with his movements that would make any lap dancer in a 'no touch' club proud. "So hard... you make me so hard," he said thickly, allowing his gaze to drop to his thick cock, inviting Cas to  
watch him jack off like that.

"You...affect me the same," Castiel said, his gaze following Dean's. "What do I...do?" he asked, his gaze darting up to meet Dean's and back to his cock. He didn't know if he should be taking hold of Dean's cock, or opening his mouth for Dean to put his cock in, or caressing his body.

Dropping slightly down, Dean slanted his mouth over Castiel's and whispered, "Whatever you want." Brushing his lips over Cas', he pulled away before Cas could draw him into a kiss. His mouth burned for the kiss he'd evaded and he wasn't sure which of them he was torturing more. 

Castiel found the breaths he didn't need to actually take were increasing in pace all the same. Wrapping his arms around Dean's waist, he pulled Dean in close, planting light kisses on his chest, feeling Dean's cock press into him. He slowly caressed Dean's back, as he pressed firmer kisses against his flesh. "Lean back," he told Dean, his voice raspy. The further Dean leaned back, the lower Castiel licked and nipped and sucked at his flesh.

"Payback's a bitch." As Cas' wet tongue dragged across his stomach, Dean arched up to meet it, to meet Castiel's kisses. "So good," he whispered as Cas inched closer to his cock. When he'd leaned as far back as he dared, Cas pushed him back farther. His arm was like a steel band around Dean's waist, so fucking strong, Dean knew he was safe. Reaching out, he caressed Castiel's arms and shoulders, his hands biting into Cas' flesh each time he wrongly thought Cas was going to take him into his mouth. "You're evil... definitely in your devilish mode," he complained.

"I am not evil," Castiel said. "I am merely teasing you as you have teased me." Blowing across Dean's cock, he whispered, "Tell me what you want."

"You know what I want." Dean's chest rose and fell with his deep breaths.

"You want many things. You want to tease me. You want to fuck me senseless. You want me to talk dirty to you. You want me to suck on your cock. You want me to tease you." Castiel ran his tongue around Dean's crown. "So what do you want most? Shall I tell you my cock is thick and hard and dripping? That I imagine you fucking me, coming inside me, then you sucking me off until I come? That I can already feel your hot wet tongue licking me, making me ready for when you thrust your hard cock inside me?" He bent his knees up and moved Dean further up his thighs so he had ready and easy access to Dean's cock. Sucking lightly on the end of Dean's cock he then took Dean's dick all the way in his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. 

"Yes... yes, yes, uh huh, hell yeah and you're already doing that," Dean said, his answers punctuated by silences as he writhed in Cas' arms. The shock of Cas' warm tongue finally sliding over his cock had him pleading for more, his pleas turning to whimpers when Cas graphically told him what he wanted. "You... you been doing some research behind my back," he accused, almost lifting all the way up when his cock was sheathed in the wet heat of Castiel's mouth. He thrust his hips a few times, then pulled himself up, gripping Cas' shoulders as he started to push and pull himself, looking down and watching his swollen cock disappear into Cas' mouth. "Touch me," he pleaded, instantly gratified when Cas ran his hand across his stomach, fingers splayed wide. "Yes... yes," Dean bit his lip and rolled his head back as he started to fuck Cas' hot mouth, moving harder and faster. "Don't let me come," he said, his voice edged in desperation.

Castiel lifted the electronic book up so he could see it, trying to hunt for how to stop Dean from coming. Suddenly a sexy deep male voice that was, unfortunately, also quite mechanical, began talking. "...Called the Spanish Omelet. The man is sitting, with his weight on his right arm and his legs outstretched. The woman sits astride him, with her back to him and leans forwards..."

Dropping the book, startled, Castiel's mind raced. He moved his hand to Dean's cock and pressed at its base, hoping it would be enough.

"Huh?" Dean's eyes flew open as the instructions continued. Between that interruption and Cas gripping him just right, though he gave a low almost pained groan, Dean managed not to come. Still aching and hard, he pulled out of Cas' mouth and sat down on him, his hand searching for the device and turning it off. "You were reading during sex, weren't you?" he practically accused, wagging his finger. He ground his hips against Castiel's a few times, then got off the couch, stepping out of his jeans. Putting his hand out for Castiel, he said distinctly in his low gravelly voice. "Let's go fuck."

"Not exactly," Castiel said, "but I was looking at some of the pictures in an effort to be more creative for you." He took Dean's hand and let Dean pull him to his feet. "Let's go make love," Castiel corrected him, pulling Dean into his arms briefly, but long enough to plant a passionate kiss on his lips.

* 

In the early hours of the morning, Dean snuggled closer, his head resting on Castiel's shoulder. Just as sleep started to take him, he murmured softly, "Cas. If you stayed here longer... I'd like that. Like it a lot."

"As would I," Castiel answered, holding Dean against him, wondering at the strange fluttering feeling he felt in his chest.

*

Dean woke to the sound of his cell phone ringing. From the open door of the bathroom, he could see the mirror's reflection of Cas shaving. Through bleary eyes, he saw the call was coming from St. Raphael’s and that jolted him awake immediately. "Hello?" Hearing his brother's voice... hearing Sam say a complete sentence, he closed his eyes, screwing them shut against tears that threatened to fall. He could barely believe. Even when they spoke for a few minutes, until a firm voice told Sam he was not to tire himself, Dean had a hard time believing. His own responses were much shorter than Sam's and were spoken in a choked voice. Setting the phone down on the night stand, he got off the bed.

Walking to the bathroom, he knocked on the open door and met Cas' gaze in the mirror.

Seeing Dean was upset, Castiel quickly wiped his face free of the shaving gel, turned and stepped up to Dean, wrapping his arms around his waist. "Is everything okay, Dean? What's happened?"

"Yeah it's... it's Sammy." He licked his lips and tried to pull himself together.   
Concern crossed Castiel's face. Perhaps Fate had plans for Sam and had already seen to it the healing Castiel has done was undone. 

"He just called. He talked to me. I mean, he talked. I didn't have to guess at what he was saying. Cas, he sounded better than before his seizure." 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Castiel hugged Dean. "Maybe that seizure rewired something in his brain, re-routed the connections needed for him to function. Hopefully, he'll continue to improve. That's wonderful news, Dean. Why don't you take the car and go spend some time with him? I know the meetings bore you and I am certain he probably has many things to say to you that he hasn't been able to."

"I will. After I have a chat with your people, you did say I could decide who is keeping their jobs." He knew Cas hadn't meant that literally, but he did want to see this through and he had told them the information they ought to have prepared for Cas today. "Besides, I don't think they'll let me stay with Sam for long, they don't want him getting tired or pushing it just yet. But yeah, good news," he grinned and put his forehead against Castiel's, suddenly realizing how odd it was that he'd wanted so badly to share his good news with him even though they didn't have a shared past and Cas hardly knew Sam.

"I will take under advisement anyone you say I should get rid of," Castiel said smiling. "You are, of course, welcome to do what feels right to you. I like having you there even though I know you are bored with it all. If you wanted to spend the entire afternoon with your brother, I have no issue with that either." He kissed Dean. "I'm very happy that Sam has improved. There is another social gathering tonight I need to attend. We could perhaps do an early dinner with Sam if you'd like. Balloons, half naked women jumping out of a cake, fireworks...." 

"I think I may have been a bad... bad influence on you," Dean answered with a grin. "Speaking of... let me see you walk," he smirked, stepping behind Cas and allowing his gaze to drop to his ass.

"I am not sore from last night, if that's what you're concerned about." Castiel said. Glancing over his shoulder he took a few steps as if in proof. "Or did you just wish to watch me 'shake my booty?’" 

Chuckling, Dean grabbed a towel and cracked it over Castiel's ass, then shut the door. Oh yeah, today was going to be a good day.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel had never been to a barbecue before and while there were several people there it was still a small group comparable to the functions he typically attended. He was enjoying listening to Dean talk with people, old cars and classic westerns being at the top of the list of conversation topics. As Castiel had no knowledge about either he remained quiet. Whenever Dean got within reach, Castiel took advantage of it and would pull him close for a few minutes, wrapping an arm around his waist or whispering something obscene in his ear which invariably made Dean stammer a moment or just fall silent, his eyes glazing over for a second. He would often give Castiel a glare, which only delighted the angel.

Castiel knew talk was spreading like wildfire that the previous party-animal ladies man known as James Novak appeared to have taken on a boyfriend. When someone asked him about Dean he would tell the truth, that he first met Dean at a French restaurant. There were the rumors that Dean was an 'escort' but no one actually had the nerve to ask Castiel about it.

Standing near the barbecue with a beer in hand, Dean's gaze skimmed across the garden. He spotted Cas on the deck in front of the large mansion, sipping on a glass of wine and, for once, looking relaxed and casual in the jeans and a tee shirt that Dean had picked out for him when they'd gone for a walk along Rodeo Drive. The prices were obscene but having seen Cas spend money like water, Dean didn't worry about it. It was amazing how much Cas had loosened up. Dean could hardly believe the change though he had to admit that he liked the guy's strange and naive moments almost as much as his new found charm and tendency to flirt. 

The smell of the barbecue had his stomach growling. He was staying away from the deck because he'd already been caught snagging food off the large table they'd set up under an area covered by a cheery green awning to protect them from the sun. It was a warm day and having walked around a little, Dean knew there was a very inviting sculptured pool just around the corner. There were a couple of kids around so he wondered if it would turn into a swim party later, not that he'd brought a swim suit nor would be inclined to join in. Unless maybe Cas did, and even then, he wasn't so sure. 

The only negative thing about the day was that Phil had turned up. Seeing the man corner Cas, Dean scowled and turned his attention back to the conversation. 

Ten minutes later Phil stalked up to Dean, his eyes filled with fury. "Well haven't you just worked the con of the century," Phil snarled. "You find out Jim Novak is overseeing a charity for brain-dead people like your brother, you spill wine on him, get yourself fired so he feels sorry for you, then con him into renting you for an outrageous amount to take care of that empty-headed brother of yours. Well I hate to tell you, Winchester, but he's caught on to your game. Your little guardian angel is through with you, he won't be taking you under his wing anymore, whore."

The accusations came at him out of nowhere, like a freight train coming down an incline without brakes. It wasn't the silence of the people around them, or being outted as a rent-a-boy that got to Dean. It was the insults aimed at Sam. Seeing red, he reacted on instinct. The bottle was gone from his hand and he was swinging his fist at the bastard, knocking him back and following him. "You don't know my brother or what he's been through, so don't you fucking talk about him," he snarled, grabbing Phil's shirt and drawing him closer. He dodged Phil's attempt to hit him back, and completely ignored the kick he received in the shin. "You understand, you sonovabitch?" He hit Phil again, this time knocking him to the ground, and started to bend down to pick him up. 

"Someone call the police!" Phil demanded. "I want this piece of street trash arrested for assault, prostitution and blackmail!" He scrambled back out of Dean's reach.

Castiel heard the shouting and saw there was something going on. He growled to himself and stalked over to the group around the barbecue, stopping when he saw Phil on the ground and Dean's hand clenched into a fist, ready to attack him. "Dean!" Castiel snapped. "Stop! Leave him be."

Dean dropped his arm to his side but when he turned to Castiel, his eyes were hot with fury. "I thought you were better than this. I was wrong," he said, barely able to keep from shouting. He glanced over at the man he'd befriended. "Mr. Chambers, thank you for having me over. I had a great time," he said tightly, nodding to the others and then walking off without another glance at Cas. 

"What did you say to him?" Castiel hissed at Philip, then turned to the others at the party. "I'm terribly sorry for this." He glared at Phil. "Men who have just been fired can be cruel and vindictive. Please excuse me." With that he chased after Dean. "Wait, Dean, please!" he called.

Dean pulled his arm away. "He knows my name. He knows about Sam. Sam is my business, not yours. He called him brain-dead. So what else have you two been gossiping about, huh?" he demanded. "Oh, that's right, I had no fucking clue who you were, but I'm apparently conning you. Know what? Take your money and shove it up your ass." 

Castiel grabbed him by the shoulders and made Dean look at him. "I didn't tell him your name, I didn't tell him about Sam. I swear I didn't. It was his job to look out for my financial well being. The checks were made out to you and you signed them over to St. Raphael's. He investigated you. It's as simple as that!"

Staring into Castiel's crystal blue eyes, Dean started to cool off. His words made sense, he could see that happening. "I did not con you. Overcharged, maybe..." About to apologize for his outburst and to laugh about being taken under Cas' wing, an image pushed its way into Dean's mind. His head reared up, he looked above Cas' shoulders. What the... Blinking and pulling away, he walked around Cas and touched him between the shoulder blades. Another memory flashed though his mind, and then another. Then it all came rushing back.

Pulling his hand away like he'd been burned, Dean backed away even as Castiel turned toward him. 

The knowledge was plain in Dean's face and Castiel felt as if he'd just been stabbed. "Dean, I had to. I don't know how you remembered but..." he shook his head, "...it isn't something any human should become aware of. It is against the rules unless we are ordered by God to reveal ourselves, and even then, most times we must then erase that memory. I blocked only that knowledge related to what I truly am, nothing more." His eyes begged for Dean's understanding.

"You've been in my mind. All this time, all your questions, and you knew all the answers all along," he guessed, his lips pulling into a tight, straight line. This time it wasn't pure anger coursing through his system, it was something worse. Something deep. Something that hurt the same way as he'd hurt when Sam ran out on him and left for college. The way Sam had done it, planning it behind Dean's back and then springing it on him after it was a done deal. This time, Dean wanted to hurt back. 

"Demons wear meatsuits. They lie. They rape. Just because you have wings, doesn't make you any different. How many times did you rape my mind? Don't!" He took a giant step back when Cas reached for him. "Don't touch me again or I will break you." Turning on his heels, he walked away.

"Dean!" Castiel called, striding after him, "I would never read your mind without your permission. I told you, I only removed memories of my true identity. The only other time was when I was hiring you and took your hands. I sensed your soul, to ensure you were a good man. I sensed that you were. You know my questions were genuine. You know they were!" he called after him. "If I knew everything I wouldn't have accused you of using drugs, would I? Dean!"

Beyond listening, Dean walked around the side of the mansion and then ran for the front of the house, to the large U-shaped driveway. Slamming the door of the car shut, he started it and instantly gunned it, driving much too fast down the driveway and hanging a sharp right onto the main street. Everything was a blur. The mansions. The trees lining the streets. The parks he passed. He couldn't say what route he took to the hotel or how he got there, but he brought the car to a stop at the valet, left the door open and strode inside.

Seeing Dean was clearly upset, the hotel manager approached him. "Is there a problem, Dean?" 

"When something is 'too good to be true,' it really is too good to be true. You'd think I'd know this." He punched the elevator call button. "Let me into the penthouse. You'll be happy to hear I'm clearing out."

Bernard walked over to the elevator and when the door opened, motioned Dean inside and followed him in. He used his master key to access the penthouse. "You have been a pleasant, well-behaved guest," Bernard said. "I wish I could say that of all the guests we have here. What's happened between you and Mr. Novak? I've never seen him take to anyone like he has to you, and he certainly has never brought anyone to the penthouse before. I can tell you're important to him." 

"Important is the wrong word. Useful, maybe," Dean answered through practically clenched teeth. As soon as the doors opened, he stalked through the living room area and into the bedroom, pulling both of his duffel bags out of the closet. One of them held the weapons he'd brought up to deal with Claire. In the other, he stuffed his own things. "Companies, employees, humans... we're just lines of numbers on a ledger, puzzles to be solved. What departments should be sold off or closed for maximum income? How much to make a problem go away? What do you need to take from someone to make everything else work like clockwork. That's his game. It works for some people." He straightened and looked at Bernard through the doorway. "Not for me," he said, undoing the straps of his watch. Something clenched tight around his heart. Almost reluctantly, he dropped the gift on the bed and picked up his bags.

"As I hear it, you have been showing him other ways of doing business. Better ways. I dare say he has been more...human...since you came into his life than he ever was before or after his accident." Bernard called the front desk on his walkie-talkie. "Would you send a spare garment bag up to the penthouse, and a small suitcase." He walked over to the closet and pulled out Dean's new suits and shoes and leather coat and set them on the bed. Picking up the watch, he took hold of Dean's hand and placed it in it. "He would want you to keep the watch and the suits and everything he purchased for you. These were not given lightly. After all, the man didn't even know how to tip until you came into his life. You are important to him. I'm certain of it. And I think he is important to you. I rather hope to see you again, Dean. If you ever have need of a temporary place to stay for a night, please stop in. Dressed appropriately, if you would."

The elevator dinged and the bellhop carried in a garment bag and suitcase. "Mr. Thompson?"

"In here."

Important. For a while there, Dean had thought so. Probably he was projecting his own feelings onto Castiel because if he had been that damned important to the man, wouldn't he have just explained the situation and let him keep the memories. The truth? No, he'd reached inside and taken something from him and he'd do it again and again, probably had to others. A lump rose in his throat. He shook his head. "I can't."

Picking up his things again, he headed for the elevator. 

Bernard gave a nod. He'd said what he could. Perhaps the young man would think on what he said and it would sink in. Dean still clutched the watch in his hand. "Everyone makes mistakes, Dean. Everyone. I hope to see you soon." He watched Dean enter the elevator, the young man's shoulders sagging. He waved the bellhop over. "I imagine Mr. Novak will want Dean's things delivered. Leave those here." 

Heading for the elevator, Bernard paused briefly to look around the penthouse and recalled the time he had been checking on some noises the people below the penthouse had complained about. Mr. Novak had been out on the balcony in the middle of a storm. The man had...wings...or else it had been a strange play of shadows.

With a shake of his head, he left the suite.

* * *

Castiel returned to the party, and Philip was holding ice on his face.

"You'll thank me. He was nothing but a con-man," Philip said. "He even took your car, didn't he?"

Stalking up to Philip, Castiel felt his fist clench. "I have never been so grateful that someone came into my life. You've ruined it. He's left me."

"Good riddance. He was a god-damned prostitute, Jim! He took you for fifty thousand dollars, plus everything you bought for him!"

"No. He was my friend and my lover. He could have everything. I'd give him the world. If he was what you think, your tantrum and vicious words wouldn't have meant a thing to him. He still had twenty thousand more to collect from me which he simply left behind. He wanted me to stay longer, and there was no money attached to that. I was going to stay..."

Castiel closed his eyes a moment then looked at Philip. "I never want to see you again. I will send your personal effects from your office to your residence. Since I own the building you live in, you have two weeks notice as of Monday to find another place to live. If you check your rental agreement, it notes that if you work for my company and you are let go, I can evict you. Consider yourself evicted." Castiel turned to Mr. and Mrs. Chambers. "I'm terribly sorry for this. I enjoyed myself. I hope this incident hasn't dampened the mood of the party for everyone. If you'll excuse me, I need to go."  
Mrs. Chambers came up and hugged Castiel. "He's a wonderful young man. Good luck."

Castiel gave a slight smile, surprised by the hug and gave a nod. His voice was thick as he answered, "Yes, he is."

Castiel walked out front and once he was out of view, he took to the air. He settled into the car beside Dean and made certain Dean made it back to the hotel okay. He followed Dean up to the penthouse suite and listened to the hotel manager try to talk to Dean. He didn't follow when Dean left, instead sinking down on the bed, fingering Dean's clothes and finding tears on his face. He hadn't cried for two thousand years, but he cried now, begging God to explain why he would be given Dean only to lose him. 

He got no answer.

* * *

When he got home, Dean took a long hot shower. His mind was a hot mess of thoughts. Thoughts of Castiel, of the unspoken hopes he'd had that the man might stay in his life somehow. How had he been fooled so completely? Not realized he wasn't who he claimed at all? Broken his own rules about mixing business with pleasure? Letting this man into parts of his life that were off limits to most? Had he been that lonely? Maybe. His life had been about making ends meet, getting Sam his treatment and working several jobs. Something had been missing from his life - companionship. Even the sort that was temporary. And then came Castiel.

A lump formed in his throat but he refused to let his emotions get the best of him. He tamped down on them and shoved them deep down inside. Deep enough that when he visited Sam, he was pretty sure Sam didn't suspect that anything was wrong. And since Sam was stuck in the hospital for a couple days, Dean wouldn't even have to tell him that his job was over early.

That night, Dean didn't know loneliness. Nah, not when he spent it with his good friend Jack Daniels, drinking until he was sick. And even that didn't stop him from drinking a little more. 

* * *

(A few days later)

Before Dean reached for the door handle, the door opened for him. As he stepped inside, Sam moved his wheelchair back, out of his way. Seeing Sam able to control the chair all on his own always made Dean grin. "Hey. Just couldn't wait for me to get home, huh?" he teased. Shutting the door, he headed right for the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. "You want some of your Dr. Pepper?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Beer," Sam said. "Skipped meds at lunch...to drink beer tonight," he said slowly, concentrating on getting all the right words out. "Have something to show. Come," he waved Dean in front of him.

"A whole beer?" Dean asked, frowning even as he got a second one out. "There's no skipping meds or I'm telling Nurse John, serious bro," he said, pointing at Sam with the bottle necks, then opening them and walking over. 

Sam nodded. "Whole beer. Special. Set," he waved his hand for Dean to set the beers down then stand in front of him. Locking the wheels to the wheelchair, he reached out and took Dean's hands, gripping them as he took his feet off of the wheelchair's foot plates. "Up. Back up," he insisted. Dean hesitated, but did as Sam said. With Dean's help...he stood. Sam's grin was so big his dimples were showing even as he swayed and Dean helped him sit back down. "No walk, but will," Sam said. "Hurts. Hard. But swear, will piss stand-up soon. Earn whole beer, yes?"

Shocked, Dean didn't say anything for a whole minute. Then, to his dismay, he felt wet tears trailing down his face. Turning away and wiping them, he cleared his throat. "Whole beer, definitely earned it." Giving Sam his beer, he touched his own bottle to it, still not saying a whole lot because of the emotions storming inside. He remembered so clearly telling Sam, when he was a toddler, that 'real boys piss standing up.' "To pissing standing up," he said finally, raising his bottle again and taking a long drink, his eyes still on his brother.

Sam's hand wavered as he lifted the beer to his mouth, but he refused to use straws except at breakfast when his muscles seemed to be slow to wake up. When Sam talked slowly, he was able to string his words together better. "Been excited all afternoon, waiting for you to get home. Stood for ten seconds." He made a face. "Then body...my body...said enough. Can't stand without help. Can't support myself with arms. Balance sucks. Nurse moving me to exercise chair and just...I just stood up." Sam chuckled. "Then fell on ass. We tested a couple times. See what I could do. Said cake tomorrow." Waving at the newspaper he said. "Want go see movie this week. Can we?"

"It's a good thing you have a calloused ass from falling all the time." Dean imagined Sam standing for the first time. He bet it surprised the hell out Sam and the nurse. "Just be careful, okay?" The seizure seemed to have done something, something good. But Dean figured another seizure, or hitting his head, might reverse what Sam had gained. It wasn't based on anything he'd heard but his gut told him that's what could happen. "Sure, we can do a movie."

He took the paper from Sam and started to flip through the calendar section. "I got some news too. They offered me a full time position. Five days a week, nine to five, two weeks vacation and five personal or sick days." He didn't say it was a good thing. "I think I'm gonna take it."

Sam nodded. "Autostore you apply at? What about garage you working at? You like garage better. You quit bank?"

"I quit the garage when I took the job with Cas... Castiel. It's alright, they didn't have enough hours for me anyway," he shrugged. "I haven't quit the bank yet." Castiel's charity had picked up all of Sam's future medical care costs. No matter how badly Dean had wanted to tell them to stuff it, in the end, he hadn't. One of his biggest concerns had always been what would happen to Sam if something happened to himself. If he got hurt, or killed, or jailed. Now he knew that Sam would have the best care, no matter what. For that, his pride could take a beating. 

Course if he was staying with Sam, and they wanted to rent the private bungalow as they had been, that was a cost he did personally have to take care of. "I could coast during the day, shelving auto parts and selling them. How tiring can that be? And I figured I could maybe sometimes take on a hunt over the weekend to break the monotony." He'd decided what he needed was a little excitement because no matter what he did, his days felt lackluster, like something had sucked the life out of them.

"You miss working for Cas," Sam said, taking another drink from his beer and watching his brother. "You liked him."

"One week job. It came when we needed it, and now it’s over and done with." His fingers tightened around his bottle as he tried to fight the memories of the places they'd gone together, the ways they'd laughed, the number of times they'd wrecked their bed. 

Sam was silent a moment, took a drink of his beer, then said, "He called this morning. Asked how I was. How you were. In New York. Not supposed to tell he called. He said he misses the lessons you were giving him and that he learned a lot. I ask if he coming back soon. He said maybe."

Dean lifted his head in a half nod, "Huh." His mind was reeling at the thought Cas had called and spoken with his brother. "Guy likes keeping his secrets," he said tightly.

"He said you and he argued. He said he wrong. Asked me if you still mad. Guess answer is yes," Sam said. Watching his brother closely he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing." Feeling the weight of Sam's gaze, Dean frowned. "Nothing. I found out he's a dick, the end. Now, what movie do you wanna see? With my luck, some kinda chick flick..."

"Dicks no say they wrong," Sam said. "Maybe misunderstand." He could tell Dean was upset and decided it was best to let it drop. For now. Maybe he would do some research on Castiel and see what he could find out. Using the computer had suddenly become a whole lot easier, after all. "Superhero movie," Sam said, knowing Dean would like that. "Want to see impossible possible. And kick bad guy's ass." He grinned at Dean.

"You got it." Relaxing just a little, this time Dean tried to understand the words on the newspaper rather than just looking at them as he rifled through it. 

* * *   
Dean checked the part numbers on the list, counted the parts, crossed them off and started to load up the shelf. This job had to be sucking the life out of him. He'd even failed to notice the new curvy nurse that had come to take Sam to his therapy yesterday morning and Sam had noticed. He'd like to say it was because he was tired, but how could anyone get tired doing this? It was boredom that was killing him, and it was so bad he was even missing his street walking days. He'd put the last box on the shelf and was about to go to the back to get some more parts when one of the other workers slapped him on the shoulder.

"Go ahead and take your break. Might want to use it to take care of business."

Dean's eyebrows went up. "What business?"

"I thought this guy out there was casing the place but I think he's watching you. Looks like a loan shark." He nodded toward the glass storefront.

Dean followed his gaze. His breath caught at the sight of the man dressed in a perfectly tailored suit and looking very much like he didn't belong in this neighborhood. Reluctantly, he met crystal blue eyes, his heart tumbling in his chest. "Something like that."

"You need back up?"

"Nah," Dean answered, heading for the door. Once outside, he headed for Castiel. "Walk with me," he said, crossing the street to get inside a small coffee shop, outside the view of his co-workers. Just inside the door, he turned and cocked his head. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to see how you are doing," Castiel said. "...I've missed your presence. May I get you some coffee? Do you have time to sit and talk with me?" he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

"I don't think this is a good idea." And yet, he didn't say 'no.' 

"I am not necessarily known for good ideas since I have become human," Castiel said and motioned to a table. He caught the waitress' eye. "Two coffees, please."

Dean stared at Castiel's profile as he ordered coffee, but pulled his gaze away the moment Cas looked over at him. "So, did you fly over here?" He hadn't seen Castiel's car.

"Yes," he said and sat down, looking up at Dean and waiting for Dean to join him. "I am not going to deny what you know, nor attempt to erase it. It was a mistake not to talk to you about it. I am sorry. Please, Dean. Please, sit with me."

Dean slid into the booth but sat ram rod straight, his arm on the table parallel to his chest, ready to push up and get out of there as soon as they were done. "We've been here before," he said, remembering the coffee shop they'd met up at after he'd pawned his weapons. It felt like a lifetime ago. "It's not gonna end the same way. I am not for sale." This time he met Cas' eyes.

"Surely by now you realize I did not mean to 'purchase' you. I do not regret it, nor a moment of the time I spent with you. You had asked me to stay longer. I had planned to until...until you left. I could not repair the error that caused your loss of job at the restaurant. And now I do not know how to repair this error either."

The waitress approached just then, set down two coffees, smacked her gum and asked, "Anything else?"

"Nothing for me. Dean, would you like something?" Castiel asked.

"Just the coffee." He ignored the sigh from the waitress and waited for her to leave before he spoke again. "There's nothing to repair. We had a business arrangement, and now it's over. Finished. I don't need your help, and you sure as hell don't need anything from me."

"I thought...perhaps...I was more than just...business to you," Castiel said, looking down into the cup of coffee. Looking up, pain clear in his eyes, he asked, "Was I mistaken?" 

The question echoed in Dean's mind. The moment he'd found out Cas was an angel, that he wasn't human, he'd stayed curled up in his arms. If someone had asked what he'd do if he found out he'd fucked someone not human before then, he'd have said something about putting a bullet in its brain. But that wasn't what had happened. "I don't know. Maybe. But it doesn't fucking matter now, anyway." 

"Why doesn't it matter?" Castiel asked. "I...I miss you. Your smile. Your laugh. The way you make me smile and laugh. The way you touch me." He reached out and laid his hand over Dean's. "If I had not followed the rules set down by God regarding human knowledge of angels, if I had not blocked those memories, would you still be with me?" 

Dean immediately pulled his hand away like he'd been burned, yet he could still feel the warmth of Castiel's palm over his hand. The feelings that surged, that screamed at him to let go of his anger, scared him. "That's not what happened. You did wipe out my memories, and I don't even know if something is still missing. I don't trust you. I can't trust you when you hold that much power and then you use it for... for what you did." He got up before he changed his mind. "If you're really an angel then you should use your powers for good. Not for making the greedy people around you richer, or helping them walk all over the little guy, or messing with people's minds... my mind. I was gonna ask you to help Sam, before you made me forget. Now... we don't need your help, but maybe you should think about giving people something and not taking something from them. That's what the good guys do."

He walked away, leaving his full cup of steaming coffee on the table. There was a hard knot in the pit of his stomach. His mind still told him he'd done the right thing, but his heart, it fucking hurt.

Castiel dropped cash on the table and used his angelic speed to catch up with Dean. He touched Dean's forehead, returning anything he had blocked or erased, and brushed his lips over Dean's before taking flight, tears once again on his face. 

* * * 

A couple of days later, the shrill sound of the alarm dragged Dean right out of his dream. Gone was the feeling of warmth and absolute protection. Though the dream was gone, its memory was sharp in his mind. The heat of Castiel's body spooning behind his. The strength of his arms around him. The soft flutter of wings cocooning both of them and shutting out the world. It had been a dream, but for one moment in time, back at the hotel, it had been real. 

He heard Sam call his name. "Coming," he said, knowing he needed to help his brother out of bed and get him to the bathroom. "Coming."

* * * 

He could feel Dean's growing fear. He could smell the saltwater, but it was dark where Dean was. ....Don't need your help...I don't trust you.... Dean's words still bit deep. He'd felt Dean's fear before and ignored it. Dean didn't want to see him. The man was a hunter and more than capable of taking care of himself without Castiel interfering. He was already interfering in ways he shouldn't. Calling Sam and chatting with him periodically. Right... just chatting.

Castiel turned his attention back to his host, Mr. Yamoguchi, smiling and nodding as the CEO talked about the benefits of his company buying up one part of a company Castiel's company had just purchased...

*

It was cold and damp. Dean could smell the water from the ocean that flooded the caves in the cliff every night when the tide came in. With his wrists bound above his head and time marching forward, panic welled up in Dean's chest. He had to beat it back in order to think clearly and to try to get free before the water came in and he was a goner. He wasn't afraid of death, but it was the other things that scared him. The pain of drowning. The knowledge that Sam would wait, and wait for him and might never know what happened. The fear that the cliff trolls he'd confronted had his scent and would go after Sam. It was a long shot, but if they were pissed enough at him for killing one of their young, they might go through that trouble.

No. No, Goddammit, he wasn't gonna die in some cave. Not today. Not today. Gritting his teeth and rolling his head back, he tried to work the ropes again, trying with all his might to loosen them.   
*

He felt the stab of panic. That was atypical coming from Dean. Panic for himself. Panic for his brother. Castiel made his phone ring and excused himself, begging forgiveness but telling them he had to take the call. As soon as he was out the door, he was airborne and followed Dean's essence to the cave. He wrinkled his nose at the lingering scent of troll. Castiel created a ball of light so Dean could see him, though he had no trouble seeing Dean in the complete darkness of the cave.

"Hello, Dean."

Startled, Dean turned his head and blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "'Hello?' That's what you've got to say?" He looked down at the ground and saw that it was a little wet, which meant the tide had started to come in. "You know, your stalking skills could use a little help. Slow," he explained, waiting expectantly.

"Stalking skills?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah. You know, following me." He rocked forward and rose up on the balls of his feet, and nodded at the binding on his wrist.

"I have not been following you. I sensed your concern of your current situation, so I came to check on you," Castiel said with a small shrug.

"Yeah, right. Whatever." He closed his eyes against the flood of memories from his dream. The sense of peace and protection he'd felt wrapped in Castiel's strong arms. "Well?" he asked, a little impatiently.

"I thought you didn't need my help," Castiel said.

"Huh?" He let out a sigh. "Just get me out of this."

Castiel stepped up to Dean and reached into Dean's front pocket, pulling out a pocketknife and opening it up. He reached up, his body pressing against Dean's as he did, standing on tip toe, and sawed through the ropes, his gaze locked with Dean's the whole time. Wrapping an arm around Dean, he explained, "To make sure you don't fall."

As if having Cas standing inside his space wasn't bad enough, Dean suddenly found himself molded against Castiel's frame. He tried not to notice the heat seeping through their clothes, or how good Castiel felt. He tried not to remember being kissed senseless by him, tried to deny this thing that was between them. Yet his heart pounded against his chest so hard, he was sure Cas would hear it. His lips ached, his gaze inadvertently dropped to Castiel's mouth. His body was betraying him. "Hurry up, Goddammit."

"Patience is a virtue," Castiel said and cut the last rope, tightening his hold briefly on Dean when the last fibers of the rope gave, making certain Dean kept his feet. "Shall I take you to your car?" he asked, his lips nearly brushing Dean's.

"What?" Dean's world spun. No, no way, he wasn't doing this. He needed to get a hold of himself. Now.

"Do you want me to take you to your car?" Castiel repeated, still holding Dean close, and looking into his eyes. "Or I can just leave, if you want," he said, feeling the water begin to seep into his shoes as the tide crept in.

"You mean... yeah, get me to my car," he agreed, now realizing Castiel hadn't walked into the caverns. "Please," he added, shying away from the intensity of Castiel's gaze.

With a nod, Castiel held Dean close and flew out of the caverns and up into the sky until he spotted Dean's beloved Impala. He set Dean down beside the driver's side door. "Do you wish for me to check on Sam, or stay with him until you arrive? Or should I just leave now?" He folded the pocketknife with one hand and slid it back into Dean's front pocket, pushing it in deeply. 

Dean's breath hitched. He looked suspiciously at Castiel from under his lashes. "That was not angelic," he pointed out, still not completely certain whether Castiel was deliberately getting him worked up with all the touching and closeness and now this.

"What makes you think I needed a knife in the first place?" Castiel whispered. After a moment of silence he said softly. "I really wish to kiss you. May I?"

"I really should say no." But that was the exact opposite of what he wanted, what he craved. 

"Is that a yes?" Castiel asked, then without waiting for a response, pressed Dean up against the car as he slanted his mouth over Dean's, licking at the seam of Dean's mouth, begging entry. 

Try as he might, Dean lost the battle to hold onto his anger and to use it as a protective shield. Instead, he closed his arms around Castiel and parted his lips, moaning softly as Castiel's tongue slid past his own. Angels were supposed to be perfect. This angel was far from perfect. But he was everything Dean needed. Strong, loyal, protective. And sexy, when he wasn't spewing ancient words that would make anyone's grandfather sound young. Mostly, he filled a void in Dean's life that Dean hadn't even realized was there. 

"Cas..." Damn, he sounded needy. Gripping Castiel, he wheeled him around so Cas' back was against the car. "Don't ever touch my forehead again," he said.

"I can't promise that," Castiel said seriously, but then a small smile tugged at his lips, "but I promise if I do, it won't be to erase anything." He ran his hand alongside Dean's cheek, then up and brushed some locks of hair from Dean's forehead. "Am I forgiven?" he asked. "I have missed you every day since the barbecue. I want you back in my life. Please say I am forgiven and that we can be together again."

"Alright. Yes, apology accepted." He moved closer, between Cas' legs, pushing him against the car. "You know long distance relationships can be a bitch. And if there's any flying around happening, I'm not doing the flying," he said. "And I'm gonna have to figure out how to tell Sammy."

"Simply tell him the truth," Castiel said taking them to the bungalow in a blink of an eye, his back now against the wall instead of the car. "And distance and flying will not be an issue. I was in Japan when I sensed your difficulties. Would you like to tell Sam now?" He gave a nod toward Sam who was staring at the two of them, his mouth gaping in surprise.  
"Sam! It's not what you think..." Except here he was, plastered to Castiel. "Ah..." Making a face, he started to peel himself away. "I meant in good time," he muttered to Cas.

"Dean?" Sam asked, wondering if he was hallucinating.

"I am in love with your brother," Castiel said to Sam. "He seems to have difficulties admitting the same. We can start the process tomorrow morning to get you released from here and then I can finish healing you."

"Whoa... what do you mean 'finish' healing him?" Dean asked, forgetting everything else. "Wait... you... when you met him, the night he had the seizure? Why didn't you tell me?" His gaze slid to Sam. "It's a little complicated."

"A little complicated?" Sam said. "In love? Heal me? What?"

"Miracles draw attention, Dean. While the therapy they offer patients here is good, it would be fallacy to allow people to believe they could come here and be perfectly healed. The night of the seizure I saw Sam would soon have a stroke from an aneurysm. I couldn't...I couldn't let that happen to him, and by then I had blocked the knowledge from you that I was an angel. So I fixed the aneurysm and healed some of his brain damage. I knew the doctors would attribute the changes in him to the seizure, just as they did. Every time I have called to speak with Sam, I've fixed small things, a little at a time so as not to draw undue attention." 

He walked over to Sam and took his hand. "I am an angel, Sam, exiled to Earth for a hundred years to better understand the ways of humans and God. I am sorry you have had to endure this. I do not know what Fate may have planned for you. If this is meant to be your destiny...then another accident may well happen, but I will be here for you to help you and try to prevent such a recurrence. Come tomorrow evening, when you are no longer a patient here, I will return you to full health unless Heaven intercedes." 

"Would you two get a room?" Dean said, seeing Castiel take Sam's hand. Of course it was taking everything he had to prevent himself from giving a whoop of triumph at the thought that Sam would be healed.

Sam stared at Castiel then turned his head to Dean as he extracted his hand from Castiel. "Deeean. What? Explain? Am dreaming? Yes?"

There was a silence while Dean searched for words and saw his brother wheeling closer to him, his eyes demanding answers. "Ah... so it turns out the ex-boss is an angel, of the winged variety." His gaze slipped to Castiel, then back to Sam. "Yeah, I know, he doesn't look very cherubic... thank God," he muttered. "Anyway, I guess he's been healing you a little at a time and tomorrow we're getting our own personal miracle. That's it, in a nutshell." He gave nervous grin.

Sam eyed Castiel. "Healed?"

Castiel closed his eyes and concentrated, allowing his wings to materialize in the physical plane. Opening his eyes he stared down at Sam. "Yes. I should be able to heal you completely. Heaven has not interceded to stop me as of yet, so I believe there will be no interference."

"You love Dean," Sam said and then twisted his head to look at Dean. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" 

Sam gave Dean an exasperated look. "You love him?"

Dean spread his arms, looked away and shifted his weight. Feeling the weight of both their gazes, he finally let out a soft breath and shrugged. "Yeah."

"No wonder been cranky," Sam said, giving Dean a smirk. He looked between the two and shook his head a little and then looked at Castiel. "He really worth ten K a night?"

"As he once told me, he's priceless," Castiel said, walking over to Dean with a determined look in his blue eyes. He spread his wings to shield them from Sam then pulled Dean into a breathtaking kiss.

THE END


End file.
